Known Subject
by TheGeekinPink
Summary: Post Lauren. The BAU is brought into a case where people around the DC area are being killed and branded with four leaf clovers. The team is able to connect the victims to the man who killed one of their own and has been on the run for the last two years since: Ian Doyle. Will the team be able to find and capture Doyle? Will they be able to deal with discovering who their unsub is
1. Two Years Gone

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, Criminal Minds and their characters do not belong to me (if they did Prentiss and Jareau would have been canon years ago). They belong to the CM writers, Erica Messer, Jeff Davis and CBS.**

**AN: Hi there. Technically this is my first story for the lovely pairing, Jemily (even though I have a couple of other stories in the wind for these two). It takes place two years after Emily's showdown with Doyle and most of the canon events that have happened up until "Lauren". **

**In this version, JJ is told that Emily was apprehended and killed by a contact of Doyle's and Hotch knows that Emily is currently alive somewhere. **

**Hope you enjoy this story and feel free to offer any feedback, criticism and what not. It's always appreciated. **

"_Vengeance, retaliation, retribution, revenge are deceitful brothers; vile, beguiling demons promising justifiable compensation to a pained soul for his losses. Yet in truth they craftily fester away all else of worth remaining." - Richelle _

A long day suddenly became an even longer night for media liaison and recently certified profiler, Jennifer Jareau. With one grey sweat pant clad leg tucked underneath the other, blue eyes scanned through the profile for the case that the team has been working on for the last three weeks. It was a case that they should have been able to close tonight and have the next couple of weeks off to recuperate. But unfortunately for them, the unsub had been a few steps ahead of them, like he had during this entire investigation, had gotten away. The team planned to go over the unsub's profile to see if there was anything that they could have missed and how this unsub always seemed to know what the team was going to do next.

On top of that, she had a couple of reports from their case in Florida that she had yet to finish up and about twenty different case files on her chaotically organized desk that still needed consulting on.

Before becoming a profiler, she had given her teammates a hard time when it came to getting their paper work in on time. Since returning to the BAU, the blond had relaxed her paperwork policy considerably.

Before she became a profiler, JJ had never really understood all the work that the profilers did or why took the other profilers so long to finish their reports by the deadline she had given them. But when she had resumed her old job while filling in the role as profiler after Seaver left, she began to understand them better. After her finishing her first disastrous and exhausting case back in her new dual position, JJ promised to put less pressure on the other profilers to get their paperwork in on time.

As much as the new profiler hated the extra work, as the last year and a half flew by, JJ became accustomed to and grateful for the extra work load at work and outside of it.

When she wasn't preoccupied with raising Henry on her own, she was offering a place for Reid go to if he needed to cry. She also helped him deal with his feelings about Emily's death and move on. In return, the eccentric doctor became Henry's new playmate and favorite occasional babysitter on the night's that Garcia was able to convince her to go out for a girl's night.

Unofficially, the liaison was also helping Morgan find Doyle. Ever since Emily's official death, Morgan had been on a mission to find the former arms dealer and bring him into custody himself. Although he would have loved nothing more than to give Doyle the same kind of beating that he gave Prentiss. They also managed to locate Declan Doyle, who was living happily in a suburban neighborhood a few miles outside of DC, with his nanny and a man named Tom. She and Derek alternated weeks when they would run surveillance near his home. They knew that it was only a matter of time before Doyle would find his son and they wanted to be there when he did.

JJ also served as the one woman welcoming committee for Dr. Alex Blake, a linguist professor at Georgetown, who had taken the open position last year. The liaison made sure that Blake felt as welcomed on the team as she could be, in spite of its current state. Whenever they didn't have a case outside of the city, JJ would offer to take the new agent out to lunch. She even as far as invitingAlex to go out on one of she and Garcia's girl's nights in with the ulterior motive of getting Garcia to warm up to the new brunette agent.

She had wanted to show Garcia that Blake was alright and not trying to replace Emily. After a rough start and a couple of drinks, the technical analyst eventually came around and on the Saturdays when Blake is not with her husband, she would come out with the two of them.

Lately, JJ has even taken the liberty of being a love guru of sorts for Garcia in her relationship with her mystery man, who's identity the technical analyst had still refused to share with her. Even though he and Garcia had been dating since she broke off her relationship with Kevin. All the other blond would tell her is that he had been a visitor during one of the support groups. He also worked for the FBI, but wouldn't say what department he was in and that he was her complete opposite. He completely understands who she is and accepts her fully for it. The feelings that Garcia's developed for this guy were starting to scare her, so she started going to JJ for advice on how to deal with them. The liaison tries her best to guide her best friend, but she honestly didn't think that she was the best person to go to for this kind of thing. Especially since her own relationship with Will crashed and burn as soon as she came back from Paris.

JJ made sure to keep herself as busy as busy meant that she didn't have to think about how much the team dynamic has changed in the last two years. Which in her opinion, had been for the worse. Hotch had taken on more reassignment missions overseas, with Rossi and Morgan alternating taking turns leading the team. Even though she was still close to Reid, she noticed that he had started to distance himself from the rest of the team. The playful banter that had once been a staple in their work area, at least it had when she would give her folder to the guys and Emily, had become nonexistent. The boys would occasionally trade barbs and Reid would quietly work on a crossword puzzle with Blake. But every so often, she would catch one of the boy's line of sight drift longingly over to the empty desk in the corner that for some reason, no one had the heart to put back into storage, when they thought no

one was watching.

The makeshift little family that she had proudly been apart of for the last nine years, was falling apart. It was only a matter of time before it all came to a head. JJ didn't want to think of the possibility of losing anyone else from their family, so she made it a point to be as involved with their lives on her off time as much as she could to hold off what she saw as the inevitable.

She also found that being busy kept her mind off of the fact that the anniversary of death was next week and the team would try once again, in vain, to get her to go out with them and drink in Emily's memory. They had tried to get her to go on the first anniversary and she was able to get out of it because Henry had gotten sick with a stomach flu going around his school.

JJ tosses the profile on the black applewood coffee table, placing it on top of her gun and sinks herself exhaustedly into the green couch. She couldn't believe that it had only been two years since Emily's official death. The events that had transpired in Boston and their aftermath had seemed like another lifetime ago for the blond profiler. Watching the doctors revive the brunette and her vital stabilize as they worked. Being ordered by inconspicuous plain clothes agents from the State Department to inform everyone but her former boss, that Emily Prentiss had died on the table. Telling Hotch about what was going to happen with Emily next. Her funeral. Then Paris, where she slipped Emily various identities and bank accounts for her to use until they found Doyle. Emily walking away, the last fleeting moment that the blond had seen her dear friend alive.

The note the brunette had sneakily left behind in her wake, in which the brunette had told her how much she had meant to her. She then confessed to wishing that they had met in another lifetime and under different circumstances, then she would have had the courage to tell the blond how she truly felt about her. That maybe, they would have had a chance to have a beautiful life together.

It took the former liaison months after that night to realize that she had wanted the same thing with Emily. She re-read the brunette's note hundreds of times, analyzed every single touch and meaningful interaction that she had with her before Will and after him, to see how she could have missed the former agent's feelings for her. It finally hit her, after Will's quiet drawl announced that he had met someone else and would be going back to New Orleans with her. He told her that he knew that JJ only ever loved the idea of a life with him, instead of actually having a life with him. That he knew all along of JJ's feelings for the brunette agent, even if the blond didn't know or wouldn't accept them.

As he closed the door, with a promise to come back up and see Henry after he settled back home, the only thing he asked of the woman he thought he was going to spend the rest of his life with, is that she find her happiness. Even if it couldn't be with the one she wanted it to be with. As the door closed, the former liaison had something that she hadn't had since resigning from the BAU and starting her work at the State Department, hope. She resolved to tell Emily in her own way, the next time the brunette had made contact with her, that she needed to come home safe because she had someone worth waiting for back home. Unfortunately for her, that contact was never made and nine months later, JJ found herself entering the doors of the BAU, with an ecstatic Garcia who happily handed over her liaison duties back to her best friend.

Two months after her return, the liaison officially became a certified profiler.

JJ had been a different person back then, the year after Paris. She wholeheartedly believed that everything would work out the way that it was suppose to in the end. She had no doubt in her mind that Emily would return home and to her, although not without visible and invisible scars. She would come home to the family that loves her and will help her heal those wounds, as well as their own. And JJ would have the opportunity to heal the scar that she had left on the brunette from Miami all those years ago.

Unfortunately for her and Emily, exactly eight months ago yesterday, the fates decided not to be kind to either of them. With a call from her former boss told her that the Doyle asset had met an untimely end in Dublin after being overpowered and outnumbered by a few of his old associate's from Valhalla. Someone within the State Department, who had ties to his old associates had apparently leaked the information that Emily was still alive and what her current whereabouts were.

She remembers calling in sick and spending the rest of the day, at least until it was time to pick up Henry, crying in her bed with the note clutched tightly in her hands and a heavier heart filled.

JJ shook her head, deciding that she was not going dwell on losing the former agent or any might-have-beens any longer than she necessary. Instead, she would think about the positives of the day.

After nearly two years of searching and overtime investigations, Ian Doyle was finally in their custody. The superficial wounds that the former arms dealer had sustained during his fight with their latest unsub, were patched up by the paramedics within minutes before he was handed over to them for processing. She had called Hotch, as soon as Derek told her that he had Doyle under control, and told him that they finally had him. The unit chief informed her that he would be on the next flight back to DC immediately. He also made it a point to order her and Morgan to continue to be professional, at least until he got there.

Right now, he would be stewing in an interrogation room handcuffed to the table, probably sweating under the bright lights that would be turned up the highest that they would be able to go. Doyle would sit there with those lights with the air conditioned room blowing heat, until one of them came in to interrogate him. It would most likely alternate between Rossi and Blake grilling him. Hotch had not been pleased to know that she and Morgan violated his orders of letting the Doyle case go. Which was one of the reasons why he would not be let either one of them to interrogate the arms dealer. The other reason being that he felt like out of all of the members of their team, that she and Derek were closest to this case. That they were the ones who wanted to make Ian pay the most for what he had done to Prentiss. He didn't want to lose two of his best agents because they had let their emotions overrule their judgement.

He ordered them to go home immediately, not leaving any room for arguments. Dave and Alex were to interrogate Doyle first thing in the morning, after a well deserved night's sleep. Hotch also recommended that they both work from home for the next couple of days, until he arrived back in DC, to rest. But the blond and Morgan knew that he was punishing them for defying his orders on Doyle. He probably would have sent Garcia home too if the team didn't need her to run background on some of their cases.

JJ was ecstatic at the reassurance that Emily's nightmare would finally be over. She was tempted to call up her old boss to tell him to contact Emily and inform her that she can come home now. Then she frowned, remembering that there would be no more contact to be made with the brunette ever again. She just hoped that wherever Emily was right now, that she would be proud of the work Morgan, Garcia and herself had put in to capture her boogeyman.

She stands up from the couch and raises her hands above her head, slowly moving her head from one side to another in order to get the knot that had formed in her neck. She opens her mouth and yawns. The blond then picks up her glock, placing it back in its holster on her left hip and leaves the files sprawled across the table. She figured that she wouldn't be getting anything more out of this unsub tonight, so she would go over the profile again in the morning, with a fresh set of eyes.

The blond walks around the couch and up the stairway, to say goodnight to Henry and maybe read him a bedtime story. She hadn't had the chance to tell her son that she would be home with him for the next couple of days. But she had a feeling that the little boy would be thrilled to find her making his breakfast before he went off to school instead of Hannah, the nanny who looked after him while she was at work or away on a case.

Lately, Henry had become restless whenever she had to travel for a case. To her surprise, he had adjusted well to the breakup and Will moving back to New Orleans. Occasionally, he would ask for his daddy especially during the times that she had to be away from him. He understood that his mommy was off chasing and bringing in the bad guys, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt sometimes to not have her there.

While she was working at the State Department, Henry had gotten used to their new route of seeing JJ getting home in time to hear about his day at school and a story before bedtime.

But now that she was back at the BAU and her unpredictable schedule, the five year old had been having a hard time adjusting to it the last couple of years. It was hard for JJ and tore her up sometimes at all of the changes and adjustments that they've had to make over the last couple of years. Sometimes the blond found herself second guessing her decision to resign from the State Department to go back to her hectic schedule at the BAU. JJ had to constantly remind herself that she was doing this job for Henry's sake, to make his world a little safer place for him to live in. It was one of the only reasons the liaison had left for not turning in her resignation from the BAU and running back to the State Department.

JJ gets to the top of the steps, she walks over to the slightly cracked door with the name 'Henry' in gold, wooden letters with three gold stars surrounding the 'H' and the 'Y'. She lightly touches each letter, like she always had whenever she stopped by her son's room. It was the last thing Emily had given Henry, before everything that happened with Doyle, as a gift for the the little boy's new big boy room. The blond liaison sighs and shakes any thoughts of Emily away quickly.

JJ reaches for the door knob and immediately notices how quiet Henry's room was. Normally as she was getting ready to go tuck him in for the night, she could hear the five year old's thumping from her spot on the couch. When she came upstairs to his door, he played animatedly on the floor with his toys making various noises and gesturing wildly. Most of the time, he didn't even notice she was there until she called out to though, the only sounds that could be heard were the sounds of silence.

For any other parent, the silence would welcomed break from the usual insanity and chaos that five year olds were capable of committing with an extended period of time alone. But for JJ for some reason, felt a wave of unease at the lack of noise. She didn't know if it was her maternal or profiling instincts, but something just did not feel right. The blond silently chastises herself for not noticing it sooner.

Not wanting to startle the preschooler, in case he was sleeping or preoccupied with something else, JJ carefully cracks the door open a little further than it had been. The sight that the blond is greeted with when she does causes her blood to run cold and her complexion to pale in shock. Her blue eyes widen as she feels her body stiffen.

A figure donned in black from head to toe, who was wearing a matching tactical full face mask, sat in Henry's rocking chair while her son leaned against him. The figure used his gloved hand to brush the blond boy's recently trimmed, short locks down as he looks down at the book. Henry then looks up to the figure and places one of his hands on the mask and smiles shyly after. The bile begins to rise in her throat as she remembers that the steel, mesh mask that her son innocently poked had just hours ago stared down at a petrified looking Ian Doyle pleading for him to stop. His blood splattered all over the googles as the unsub proceeded to beat him within an inch of his life. The same look this unsub's victims more than likely had in the final moments of their lives.

The unsub appeared to be about an inch taller, without the combat boots, than her own five foot seven frame. Whoever this person is, they were a lot shorter than the profile that the team had originally given the police. Because the unsub was wearing head to toe tactical gear and loose clothing, she couldn't definitively determine the gender of the unsub. But she did know that this unsub was considerably strong. Their last victim, Michael McFadden, was strangled outside of a nightclub that he owned. Then dragged to an open house in a nearby neighborhood, where he was found dangling upside down from a chandler.

The unsub lifts his head and glances up at her, as if this person were waiting on her to make a move. JJ moves her left hand and hovers it over her holstered gun. The unsub subtlety lifts their shirt up to reveal a loaded Sig sitting in a holster, causing the blond to slowly lower her hand. The unsub waits for her to lift her hands up in surrender, before they lower their shirt back down.

The movement causes the little boy to look up and then over to the doorway. A big, bright smile appears on Henry's face and bounce up and down on his new friend's lap.

"Hi mommy!" he said enthusiastically, causing the liaison to smile hesitantly at him. " My friend Bucky came to see me and he's going to read me a bedtime story tonight! Aren't you, Bucky?"

The unsub looks down and nods at Henry as JJ looks on questioningly.

"Bucky?" the liaison asks, trying to stay as calm and casual as possible. She did not want to take the risk of having Henry think that something was wrong and having him possibly do something to upset the unsub.

"Uh huh. I'm Steve and this is Bucky." he explains excitedly. "We were playing Captain America earlier and beating the bad guys at Hydra. Just like in the movie we saw last week. Did you know Bucky was there with us too."

JJ could feel a bead of sweat drip down her her forehead at Henry's revelation. This unsub had been following her for god knows how long and not once did she notice it. They followed her to the movies with her son. They followed her home and managed to sneak in without her noticing. She wonders how long this unsub had been following her and if the figure tailed any of her other teammates as well?

Looking away from Henry, JJ turns her gaze towards the unsub.

"No I didn't. Does 'Bucky' happen to have a name, little man?"

Henry nods happily towards his mother.

"Bucky has a name." he states obviously. " But Bucky said that it's top secret. The people from Hydra might come after him if he tells me. So I call him Bucky."

JJ takes a deep breath, trying to come up with a way to get Henry out of here as quickly as possible, so that she could deal with the unsub. If she walks away from them, the unsub could take Henry or worse. And if she tries to subdue the unsub, whoever it is could hurt Henry and she did not want to take that chance. The profiler takes a few seconds to come up with her last resort that isn't guaranteed to work, especially if Henry doesn't follow along.

"Sweetheart, Bucky can read you a story some other time." JJ says softly, but in a tone that won't leave any room for the preschooler to object. She keeps her eyes on the unsub. " Bucky has to go home now."

"Why mommy? You said that Bucky could come over and read to me anytime." he asks as his smile turns into a pouty frown. He quickly hops off the unsub's knee, causing the liaison to squirm a little. But when the unsub did not respond to the loss of contact, JJ silently sighs in relief. She looks at the little boy curiously, wondering when she said that.

"I know honey, but we can't tonight." JJ says, taking a cautious couple of steps into the room. She smiles at her son. "Because, we are going to visit your aunts and uncles at Quantico." The profiler takes another step towards the preschooler. When she is close enough, she places her hands on his arms and lightly strokes them up and down.

"Don't you want to see your Aunt Penelope and Uncle Reid?" JJ asks as she leans down and puts on a pout of her own, while the five year old looks down. " I know they're still there and they really want to see you."

Henry looks back up at his mommy and smiles wide. He shakes his head excitedly and JJ pulls him into a hug that ends with a kiss on the forehead. He moves out of his mother's arms and looks over her shoulder towards the unsub.

"Now, go wait in mommy's room with the door closed and call Uncle Reid. Tell him we'll be at the office in ten minutes. When you're done, just stay in my room and watch cartoons until I come to get you, alright bud." the liaison tells him, her hand ruffling his hair a little as she stands up. He nods and makes his way out of his room. Henry stops and turns around to look at his friend.

"Bye Bucky. You'll come back and play with me tomorrow will you?" he asks shyly.

The unsub nods at Henry and the little blond boy runs happily out of the room.

When JJ hears her bedroom door shut, she immediately turns around to face the unsub. She carefully pulls out her glock. As soon as it is out of the holster and gripped in her hand, the masked unsub rises carefully out of the rocking chair. A move that surprises the blond profiler.

Considering the way this unsub brutally killed their twelve victims, she was fully prepared for an all out brawl to the finish. Then again, this could all be a trick and as soon as JJ show a little sign of weakness, the unsub could kill her then.

She aims her weapon at the unsub's head and takes a step back. The unsub takes a step forward, with their hand making its way towards their waste.

"Don't move and put your hands in the air." JJ says sternly as she takes the safety off of the glock. "I will shoot you."

"I have no doubt that would, Jennifer." the distorted voice agrees calmly, startling the blond profiler for the second time this evening.

Unfortunately for JJ, her pause was long enough for the unsub to yank the gun from her grasp and knock her to the ground with their shoulder. She looks up to find the unsub with her gun aimed at her forehead.

"I didn't come here to hurt you nor Henry." the gravelly voice tries to reason with her.

"Oh really? Breaking into my house and holding me at gunpoint, with my own gun, in my son's room doesn't exactly scream I'm not going to hurt you." JJ said sarcastically, rolling her eyes at her captor.

The unsub loses control for a moment and angrily shoves the muzzle of the gun deeply into her forehead. The liaison closes her eyes preparing for the shot to come. She was happy that Henry was in the other room and wouldn't be around to hear or see what was about to happen to her.

A couple of minutes go by and the kill shot doesn't come. Instead, the profiler feels the unsub move the muzzle away from her head. She opens her eyes to see the masked figure point her weapon away from her and unload it. The unsub throws the remaining pieces of the gun to the floor when they're done.

The figure then takes a gloved hand and reaches into the holster and unloads the magazine of its Sig. The unsub then points the unloaded gun and in her direction and waves it up and down, telling her to get up. Then they step away from her and walks over to the middle of the room.

JJ hesitantly does what she is told and stands up, just as the unsub takes a knee to the ground. The figure then raises their hands in the air and lowers their head.

The profiler does not make the same mistake that she had made with this unsub earlier and acts quickly. She quickly walks over to the unsub, taking out her handcuffs in the process. The blond takes one of the unsubs arms and makes sure to cuff them tightly. When the handcuffs were on, she forces the unsub to their feet and takes the figure out of Henry's room.

She leads the figure down the staircase and surprisingly was met without challenge. When they entered the living room, JJ throws the unsub onto the couch and watches the dark figure before her motionless. She couldn't shake the feeling that this unsub, for some reason, wanted her to catch them. But the question was why?

This person could have left her for dead and made their way out the door without Henry knowing that anything had gone wrong. They had done it before with victim number three, Duncan Flanagan. The unsub had killed him in his study, while his wife and two kids went about their nightly routine. His wife, Leanne, hadn't even suspected that anything was wrong until the next day, when she noticed that Flanagan did not come to bed the following evening. The next morning, she found him tied to a chair with a shot to the head and two to the thigh, with a four leaf clover branded into his chest.

So why did this unsub not kill her and run away? Why did they let her live? Just like the rest of this case, this unsub's actions did not make any sense.

JJ turns away from the figure on the couch, comfortable that this unsub was not going to try anything else. She walks over to the house phone and Morgan groggily answers after the second ring. She tells him everything that has gone on within the last twenty minutes or so and he tells her to sit tight. That he was on his way to pick all three of them up and personally escort them back to Quantico. She tells him that they'll be waiting.

As she hangs up the phone, JJ thinks about something that has haunted her since the confrontation with the unsub began. Why was Henry so comfortable with this unsub, when he closes up and hides behind her leg whenever any other stranger approaches him? Had this unsub been under the nose of JJ and the rest of the team the whole time? Had they worked with this person and they had gotten close enough to the team, to Henry without her or them realizing? Was it someone close enough to the Doyle investigation that they would target all of his old contacts, who had supposedly gotten out of the business after Valhalla fell apart and were now living quiet lives of their own?

JJ inhales a deep breath in, taking comfort in the fact that they now had now apprehended two dangerous unsubs that would not hurt anyone else again. She moves towards the couch and takes her seat next to the unsub and waits for Morgan to arrive.

**AN: Well that's all for this chapter, hope it wasn't too bad. Next chapter and the next few chapters or so, will go back to the beginning of the case and then it will go back to the present. Thanks for reading and comments are greatly appreciated!**


	2. Michael McFadden

**AN: A quick little warning. The language and some of the scenes in this are a little more graphic than in the last chapter. Hope this particular scene isn't too bad or triggering for anyone.**

* * *

**2 weeks earlier:**

**4:30 am**

Michael McFadden drunkenly stumbles out the near empty doors of McFadden's place and into the sidewalk. Half of his dark green shirt was tucked messily into his khaki the other hung out loose and free exposing a little bit of the beer belly he had developed, thanks to thirty years of hard partying. The balding, red head with a receding hairline, held a vice grip onto the door as he held the door open for the attractive, young brunette behind him. He bows lightly in her direction and as she walks out the door, she turns around and smiles at him in thanks for opening the door for her. He reaches down and then takes a sizable amount of her ass into his heavy palm and squeezes it tightly. When he's done, he lightly swats it for good measure.

She turns around sharply and smacks him in the face so hard, his pale, stinging cheek turned a bright red. He smiles goofily at her retreating form as he lets go of the door.

"See ya next time sweetheart!" he catcalls to her in a hearty yet harsh Irish accent, showing his stained dark yellow teeth in the process. "I like em feisty!"

As she gives him the bird, his laughs grow louder. He closes the door and manages to stumble around the corner into the dark alleyway, leaning against the opposite wall where the local bum usually sleeps. Tonight had been a very goodnight for his business and he spent the night celebrating it with his buddies. A couple of investors were interested in franchising McFadden's place into other big city hubs across America, due to the success of his bars in DC and Boston. They were in the negotiating phase of the deal, merchandising rights and ownership rights. They also discussed how much Michael was going to get out of the deal. So far, it looked like he would be achieving his dream of buying a private island on the coast of Tahiti, where he will retire handsomely with beautiful island maidens at his beck and call, after all. He puts his head on the white brick and smiles dreamily.

Being Ian Doyle's gopher boy actually paid off in the end for the fifty-eight year old. The smarmy bastard managed to keep his word after closes his tired eyes and let's the past play temporary host to his daydreams.

Thirty-years ago, he was a line cook slumming, like most of the population of North Dublin, as a line cook in a dinner when he first met Ian Doyle. He was a young, brash lad who made hell for the McDermott's and took every opportunity possible to rub it in his face. He remember Doyle ordering some corn beef and hash to go with his black coffee, his usual . He had a shiner almost the size of his fist, stretched down to his nostril. It had apparently been a long night for the young upstart. At the time, Michael was very tall and muscular, with biceps that were the size of Ian's head. The waitress had been busy at the time, so she told Michael to deliver Doyle his meal. Their conversation was brief and polite, talking about the latest disappointing rugby game. After a few minutes, Doyle had been ready to go. But before he did with a mischievous gleam in his baby blue eyes, told Michael to go in there, tell his boss to piss off and Michael would never have to work in a shit hole if he didn't want to for the rest of his days. At first, the red head had thought that Doyle had a little too much to drink the night before. But seeing how serious the young brogue looked, he couldn't help but take his offer seriously. He threw his apron to the ground, slapped the ass of the waitress who told him to bring Ian his food and told his boss to piss off and quit. And Ian was right, about that. Probably one of the only things the man was right about.

With Ian and his puppet Liam, they helped make Doyle one of the most feared former arms dealers in the business. In the early days, it was a well oiled, three man operation. Ian came up with the ideas and Liam made sure that they were carried out to the letter. And Michael served as the muscle, or as most people fearfully called him, the enforcer. Whenever McFadden would pay a visit to someone who wasn't loyal to Ian, didn't follow his orders or was a McDermott, it was almost guaranteed that you would not be heard from again. McFadden even came up with the idea of Ian's insignia, the heart shaped four leaf clovers, to let others know that this was Doyle's territory. He took pride in his job and throughly indulged in all of the perks that it provided him with.

But it all ended one day, ten years ago, when he had a heart attack in the middle of a he came to from his bypass, Ian sat faithfully by his bedside and made sure that his longtime friend would be okay. He gave McFadden enough money for his twenty years of loyalty to be comfortable and became a silent investor in McFadden's place for a short time. Ian backed out of McFadden's after operation Valhalla blew up in his face and he was sent to some hellhole prison in Russia. He felt sorry for his old friend's troubles and wished that he could have met the bitch who helped take him down and teach her a lesson himself before he killed her.

One day, about a couple of years ago, McFadden had the chance to do just that. He remembers a brunette with bangs, wearing all black, being dragged into the bar by two overexcited blondes. One of his barkeeps had backed out of his shift at the last moment, so he had to cover for him. All three of the women, who could have been in their mid thirties, sat down at the bar and were egging the brunette on about something. He thought they were all attractive and he was happy to talk to three beautiful women. But there was something about the brunette that seemed vaguely familiar.

With a glass in his hand, he walks over to the lovely ladies and introduces himself. They all smiled politely at him and all ordered the best ale that he had in stock and that it would go on the brunette's tab. The curvy blond with the glasses, wearing every color of the rainbow, told him that it was the brunette's birthday and that they were celebrating. He stares at the brunette again and tells her happy birthday and receives a shy smile as she hands him her black American Express card. He turns around to swipe the card, not plan on charging the ladies extra for their drinks for the night and gets out three clean mugs for the ale. The red head looks over to his wall of photos and his eyes land one of Ian and his last girl, a Lauren Reynolds, taken four years ago before Ian was locked up. Doyle had said that this one might be his last one and they even had plans to marry. Unfortunately, she died the next day in a wreck, along with two Interpol agents as Ian was taken into custody. He remembered Doyle being broken up at the news. McFadden knew that there was no damage that the Russians could inflict upon him that death hadn't already done.

The bar owner takes a hard look at the photograph and then glances over to the brunette at the bar. His green eyes widen and nearly popped out of his head when he realizes that Lauren Reynolds was alive, in the flesh. Not only was she alive, she sat ten feet before him, joking with her friends at the other end of the bar. He could have sworn that the lithe blond hanging on the shoulder of the brunette had called Lauren, Emily. His grip on the lever tightens as he fought to maintain control of his was sitting over there having the time of her life, while Doyle was rotting away the rest of his.

He turns the keg off and walks over to the ladies. McFadden apologized to them and said that he needed to see their ids, just in case they had been lying to him and they were much younger than they were, which earned a laugh from three women. They flashed him their badges, but he paid very close attention to the banged brunette. His suspicions were Reynolds had been Emily Prentiss, a Fed. And thanks to her, Doyle was rotting in a Russian prison.

He gave them their drinks and bid them a lovely evening and made sure to bid miss Reynolds a happy birthday. The brunette flinched and corrected him, to which he apologized and said that she reminded him of someone that he knew long ago. He went into his office and told Riley, his assistant manager, that no one was to disturb him for the rest of the night. McFadden then made a call to a lad named Jeremy, a former fed who had smartened up and agreed to be Doyle's informant for a hefty price. He told Jeremy that he knew that Lauren or Emily as it was, is still alive and that he should tell Doyle that she is living the life in DC as an FBI agent.

A few weeks later, he had gotten word that Doyle escaped and killed that bitch Emily, Lauren or whatever her name was. But not without suffering causalities of his own. His lap dog Liam had been one of those causalities. He may not have liked or agreed with Liam at times, but what a rough way to go.

Two days after receiving word on his old cohort, Doyle showed up at his bar, looking like a broken man. He tells McFadden that his boy is still alive and that he was going to find him. That he wouldn't let Emily take Declan away from him again. The red headed bar owner offered a room in one of his slum apartments downtown, rent free, in the name of their past friendship. His old boss was thankful and offered to repay him whenever he got back on his feet,but McFadden had promptly turned him down. He considered Ian to be like a brother to him, his family and the red head always treated his family well.

For two years, he and Ian would have a good old fashion Irish brunches, fit for kings every Sunday after Mass. McFadden would try to convince the stubborn bastard to grow his hair out into a beard and settle here in DC when he found Declan. But Ian would always say that settling was not an option. He would go on a rant about being a warrior and how warriors did not back down. He was going to get his empire and son back, even if it was the last thing he did in this world. McFadden would shake his head at the old fool and say nothing more about it. They would then go on to talk about rugby and the old neighborhoods of North Dublin, wondering if some of the buildings were still standing.

McFadden opens his eyes when he starts to feel his bladder tingling, time to take a leak. He forces himself off the wall and leans an arm against it when he feels himself began to slip. A little bit of slobber comes out of his mouth as he struggles to get the zipper of his pants undone. He relieves himself on the wall and when he's done, he pulls the zipper of his pants up once more.

The red headed McFadden doesn't see a dark figure approaching him from behind, on the opposite side of the alley. That the figure had been watching him the whole night from a corner booth in the bar. He doesn't notice the thick rope in the gloved hands of the figure, dangling out of their hand. He doesn't know that the last moment of his life will take place while he is in a drunken stupor, peeing in an alley. He doesn't know that this dark figure had already gone through a majority of his old friends and acquaintances while he was with Doyle and whose bodies were now sitting in their respective counties' morgue. He doesn't see the figure stop directly behind his back and wait a couple of moments to make their move.

But McFadden does feel his head being shoved into a wall and the rope being placed around his fat neck. His attacker yanks the rope hard and his head along with it. He can't breathe and his meaty hands struggle against the rope. He uses his weight to back his attacker into the next wall, which works for a few moments. But not long enough for his attacker to let go and allow him to put up a fight. He feels the air rapidly escape from his lungs and his large six foot three frame kneels forward. His skin begins to turn blue and his head feels as light as air. His attacker pulls on the rope one more time, but this time is different. They quickly and effectively pull the rope in opposite direction of his head, breaking his neck in the process. As they had done to three other times before him. Michael McFadden's body, with his green eyes wide open, falls to the ground.

Michael McFadden was no more.

The dark figure places two fingers underneath the man's fat neck to confirm that he was in fact dead. They walk away from the body for only a moment to run down to the other side of the alley and retrieve something out of a black nineteen-sixty-nine restored black Mustang at the end. They get a dark bag, that could almost pass for a dry cleaning bag, and close the door. The figure lightly jogs back over to the body. They turn McFadden onto his back and hesitate for a moment. The figure closes the dead man's eyes in pity, an act of compassion that they were sure the red headed man did not deserve in death. It was more compassion than this man showed to any of his victims the twenty years he spent doing Doyle's dirty work. The figure sets the bag onto the ground and proceeds to carefully place McFadden into the bag.

When they are done, the figure stands up, bends down onto the ground and lifts the part of the bag with the man's upper body, leaving lower body to drag onto the ground. The journey back to the car had been long and tedious, carrying the nearly two hundred and fifty pound man. And as soon as the figure got back to their car and placed McFadden's body into the back seat, they take a moment to lean back onto the classic car and rest. When they were done, they got into the car and drove out of the alley to their next destination, New Orleans. Where there would be an open house for the Flanagan family home that would take place the next day. Or as the dark figure remembered, home of victim number fourteen.

* * *

**6:30 am**

**The Lamontagne home:**

The morning rays of the New Orleans sunrise shined on the short, dark brown hair of one William Lamontagne, who had his bare arms wrapped tightly around his wife, Gabrielle. His hands wandered down and protectively covered his wife's ever prominent baby bump. In just four months time, Henry would have a little half sister, Lily and he would be a father once again. This time though, he would be a little more prepared for it than he had with his boy.

Two years ago, if anyone would have told him that he would meet the true love of his life, have his job back as a senior detective at the NOLA homicide division, while still be on good terms with his former fiancee and son. That his life would be as close to perfect as one could get, with someone that wasn't JJ, he would have thought you had lost your mind. For a long time, he tried to convinced himself that JJ was the one and even though circumstances brought them together, they were still meant to be. He was sure that his ex had done the same thing with him. But the truth is that they were only trying to make it work so that Henry could have a mother and a father. They hadn't stayed together because they were really in love with one another. Looking back, Will doesn't think that they were ever really in love at all.

They probably would have kept the charade going, had he not saw Gabby waiting in JJ's office while she was still at the BAU. He was coming to surprise JJ for lunch, only to discover that she wasn't there. He goes to Garcia's office, to see if she knew where his fiancee was. Only to have her tell him that she was in the middle of a briefing and headed to Spokane right after.

Disappointed, he was about to turn around and leave. But he stopped when this beautiful brunette with crystal blue eyes and a nice tan approaches him, introducing herself as Gabrielle Cormier and asked where Agent Jareau's office was. He immediately picked up on her thick, Cajun accent right away and asked her what part of the Bayou state she was from. She told him that she was originally from New Orleans, but was currently living in Baton Rouge, as a US district attorney for the Middle District. She was here trying a capital case for the next few weeks or so before she would be going back to Baton Rouge. She was also visiting her boyfriend who worked primarily in DC.

They ended up in a ten minute long conversation about their hometown before Gabby gave him her card and said that they should meet up again sometime, as friends, if he ever felt a little homesick. They met up for coffee a few times before she went back to Baton Rouge and it was nice for him to have someone that knew where he was coming from.

Over the next year or so, his friendship with Gabby grew stronger as his relationship with JJ deteriorated. When JJ took the job with State Department, he thought that all of the fights, mainly about her traveling with the BAU, would end. He, JJ and Henry would be a happy family once again now that JJ was working a nine to five. Unfortunately, it hadn't worked out that way. One of their fights had gotten so bad, that he decided to go home to New Orleans for a couple of weeks to clear his head and cool his temper.

To his surprise, he bumped into Gabby at a dive bar he used to go to on his first night back. She tells him about missing home and deciding to take a job with the District Attorney's office here. The whole time that he was there, they hung out and went bar hopping together with his old friends from the was the only time in the last three years that Will truly felt happy and at home, like his old self again. The whole that had grown within him since he moved to DC to be with JJ and Henry, had filled.

On his last night there, he and Gabby had gotten a bit caught up in the hanging lights and romantic scenery all around them, he took her hand in his. By the end of the night, she invited him back over to her new place for a couple of night caps before he would go back to his hotel room. He never made it back to his room that night. The next morning, he found himself wrapped around the naked attorney and ended up taking a later flight back to DC. Gabby saw him off and for he first time since JJ three years ago, he was sorry to see her go.

Will never told JJ about what happened when he came back to DC. Subconsciously, he thinks that the blond already knew. JJ had known about Gabby being a good friend of his and she said she had been okay with it. That it was nice for him to have a little reminder of home, if that was what he needed.

JJ started working more hours at the State Department and coming home later. Sometimes when he would wake up in the morning to an empty bed, he would find her sprawled out on the couch with her work files all over the place. He would kiss the top of her head and put the files in a stack for her before making breakfast for the three of them in the morning. When she wasn't working late, JJ would spend most of her free time entertaining Henry. The conversations that they would have together were short and casual. They didn't really talk about anything anymore unless it pertained to Henry. He continued to get to know Gabby, even though he knew it was wrong to do this to JJ. But as far as he was concerned, their relationship was over.

He realized that things were not going to work out with JJ. It was only a matter of time before one of them wised up to that fact and had the courage to end it for good.

That time came one afternoon, when JJ stormed into the house without so much as a glance to Henry or himself. She made a sprint for the stairs and hurried into their room. By the time he was able to catch up to her, their room looked like a tornado had blown through it. He tried asking her what was wrong, only to receive a clipped reply saying that Emily was in trouble. When Will tried to get her to explain more, that maybe he could have done something to help, JJ just kept asking about a long bright orange envelope that she left on the dresser. He told her that he put in it the drawer, not wanting her to lose it when she left for work this morning. The blond then threw open the drawer and ran downstairs. And after a quick goodbye to Henry, she sped out of the door. But not before telling him that she would be at the BAU for the next couple of days, helping them with a case.

Will had known that Emily and JJ were close. The brunette agent had even stopped by while he was in New Orleans and saw her for a couple of hours, according to was going on with his fiancee's former coworker must have been real bad if it got JJ in a frenzy like this. But he was also curious as to why JJ would lose her cool in the way that she had.

For as long as he had known his fiancee, JJ was always cool, composed and seemingly fearless in the face of the horrors she saw day in and day out. Most times, he wondered how she could do what she did every day and not want to eat her gun. Today, when he briefly looked into the blond's eyes, he terror was one of the things that he saw there. He also saw sorrow and regret, as well as something else. Something that he would not understand for another few weeks, when JJ returned from her assignment in London.

Three days later, he understood the terror in JJ's eyes as he watched the Nightly News report segment on the death of Emily Prentiss, FBI Agent and daughter of Ambassador Elizabeth Prentiss. At the hands of Ian Doyle, who had escaped the FBI raid on one of his warehouses. It happened to be playing when JJ walked back through the door with slumped shoulders and darken red rimmed eyes. She only got a couple of steps through the door before he rushed over and caught her slumping form before she hit the floor. He held her as tightly as his arms would allow as she fell apart in his arms. Will had been thankful that Henry was a deep sleeper and could not hear his mother's cries.

The week after she returned home, JJ insisted on going to Emily's funeral alone. She said that she wanted Henry to only have happy memories of his Aunt Emily and that it wasn't necessary for him to see her in a casket. He tried to argue that it would be good for him to get closure and understand that his Aunt wasn't coming back. But JJ had told him about the facial injuries that Emily had sustained She didn't want to upset Henry with it, so that was why it was best for them to stay here. When the blond came back hours later, she grabbed Henry out of his lap and took him upstairs and cuddled with him in their bed. Will slept on the couch and talked to Gabby all night about JJ. And how he was worried about her. Gabby assured her that she'll get better with a little time and he told her that he hoped so.

The next morning, JJ tells him that she has to go to London for some State Department assignment and that she wouldn't be back until next week. He didn't quite believe her, but knew that they were both too physically and emotionally spent to question it. He nods at her and watches as she walks out the door. He doesn't know what prompted him to do it, but Will ended up going to the attic, grabbed a few of his suitcases and started to pack his things. He called Gabby and told him that he would be back home permanently as soon as JJ came back from her assignment. It was time for him to leave and let JJ have the life that she wanted to have. A life that obviously wouldn't include him in it.

Will spent the next week with his boy, knowing that this would be one of the last times he would be able to do so for a while. He treasured that time with Henry and made sure that the week was the happiest for his son. They went to the zoo, took him on his first go cart. And they spent the weekend in their underwear watching cartoons and eating cereal When Monday came, he kissed the top of Henry's long blond hair and told him he loved him no matter what happened. To which the boy happily nodded as he fell asleep by his daddy's side.

When JJ returned, she seemed more hollow and empty than she had before she left. He knew that she would not tell him what was wrong if he asked and would go on, pretending to be fine. She didn't even looked surprised when she walked in to find the suitcases. Will told her he was going back home and JJ nodded in understanding. She even told him to send her best to Gabby and to thank her for the flowers she sent for Emily's funeral. Will turned around and hugged JJ, who tried to give his ring back to him. He politely declined and told her that it was a gift, that he didn't want it back. He kissed her temple and looked around their former home together. And before he walked out of the door, Will advised a tearful JJ that she should find her bliss and do what makes her happy. Even if she couldn't be with the person who made her happy anymore. Even if the possibility of being with Emily wasn't an option anymore.

That evening, he left for New Orleans and Gabby was happily waiting for him at the airport. They kissed and headed back to her place to start their new lives together. He got his job back with the NOLA police department after promising to buy around of drinks for the boys. A few months later, he proposed to Gabby in the spring. The following summer, they were married in front of their friends, family, Henry as the ring bearer along with JJ. And surprisingly enough, every member of the BAU. Agent Rossi even offered up one of his vacation homes in Cape Cod as a honeymoon present.

Nearly a year later, they found out they were expecting a child of their own. The first of many, he secretly hoped, not that he would ever tell Gabby that. She had told him that she refused to be a baby making machine for the detective and he was just fine with that. They moved out of her apartment and found a nice four bedroom house in a quiet neighborhood a couple of months ago. Luckily for them, the BAU happened to be working a case around the area and they offered to help them move in. They told them the news of their pregnancy and everyone seemed thrilled for them.

Even JJ gave him a bright smile with a fond congratulations to both of them and ended it with a crack about how fertile he was. Garcia offered to come down there a couple of months ago to help decorate the nursery. She had a color scheme for the room picked out and ready to go for when she got there. Last week, she sent Gabby the color scheme and the brunette urged him to take a few days off to work on the nursery with her and beat Garcia to the punch. He laughed at his wife's suggestion, but suddenly stopped when he realized that the brunette was not kidding around. Knowing Garcia, he knew that the scheme would be as out there as its creator. So he relented and managed to talk his boss into using a few weeks out of his vacation time that he had saved up.

For the next week, he would be at Gabby's beck and call, hopefully for other things that have nothing to do with painting as well. At least that was what the detective was hoping for.

Unfortunately for Will, his job had other plans.

The french horns blare from the dresser, where his phone currently sat. He opened his eyes dug his head deeper into Gabby's brunette locks, doing his best to ignore the noise. Whoever was calling would just have to wait a couple of hours. After four rings, the horns stop and Will closed his eyes once again.

The horns started up again and the detective reluctantly lets his wife go. His left arm reaches out for the white Iphone. Through his sleep filled eyes, he tries to look at the caller id.

"Answer that damn thing, mari." Gabby tiredly tells him, her voice thick with sleep. He leaves a lingering kiss on her cheek and rolls over onto his back, placing the phone to his ear.

"Lamontagne." he croaks out, his accent a little more thicker than usual.

"_Will, I need you down here now. We got a situation." his partner Beau urgently tells him._

"Dammit Beau, you know that I'm s'ppose to on vacation for the next couple of weeks." Will said, turning over to the side facing his dresser. "Why can't you find someone else to go with you."

" _I know that but this is important, it's about the Flanagan case. Another body turned up at the house."_

Will sits up looking quizzically at the new information his partner had just told him. A few months ago, they received a nine-one-one call from the Flanagan residence. His wife, Shelly Flanagan, woke up to find that her husband had not gone to bed that night. She immediately heads to his study in the basement, not thinking anything of it at the time. According to her, Duncan's study was practically his second home. She hears the sound of one of his Tom Waits records blasting throughout the study. When she walks in there to turn the music off. She shrieks in horror to find her husband tied to his chair, with a ball gag in his mouth and a gunshot wound to the temple. As well as one other on his thigh and another to the abdomen. According to the medical examiner, Duncan Flanagan had been dead since nine pm the previous night. Will noticed that there was a four leaf clover that had apparently been branded onto his chest. When he asked Shelly about it, she said that to her knowledge, her husband had never branded himself.

Duncan's murderer left nothing behind that would help them locate them. They were smart enough to wear gloves and take any shell casings and the bullets that were lodged into Duncan with them. They couldn't even find a finger print anywhere in the crime scene or a footprint outside the basement door. When they talked to the neighbors, none of them had seen anyone but Duncan and his family go in and out of the house. One neighbor did hear the sounds of a car engine rumbling, but assumed that it was just someone passing through the neighborhood. They asked them to give a clear description of the car, the only thing this neighbor could say was that the car was black.

Will and his partner spent weeks trying to find some sort of break in this case. He was determined to find this son of a bitch and bring him in, if only for his own piece of mind. He lived four blocks from where the murder occurred and he was concerned about the safety of his growing family.

Unfortunately after a couple of months, the case grew cold. There were a couple of times when the southern detective was tempted to give JJ a call and see if there were any other bodies with the clover branding in the FBI's Vicap database. But hedecided against it. At the time, they weren't dealing with a serial murder,so there was no need to bring the BAU into his case.

Will runs a hand through his hair and sighs. "Have you looked at the body yet?"

"_Briefly, but it was kind of difficult to look at the poor son of a bitch from where I was standing."_

"What do you mean by that?"

"_The realtor came in about an hour ago, to do some last minute touch ups for the house before the presentation. She came into the living room and found the unidentified man hanging from the staircase bannister. There were no traces of blood or footprints and like the Flanagan murder, no one saw the perp enter the house."_

Will sighs in frustration then turned his head to look at his wife and brushed back a strand of her dark locks behind her ear. It looks like their baby vacation would have to wait a little while longer.

"Okay. Did you find anything else, B?" Will asks, moving his legs to the side of the bed.

"_The body had a four leaf clover branded onto his chest like Flanagan. Except it's on the right side of his chest."_

"Alright. I'll be at the house in a few. Make sure to leave the body as is and don't have the ME cut em down until I can get a good look at em." he orders his partner.

"_See you soon. And sorry about the vacation Will.I know you was looking forward to it."_

"That's alright Beau. Like my ex used to say, psychopaths nevah sleep or take a holiday."

Will hangs up the phone and sets it back down on the dresser. He sits down with his head hung low in thought. He hated that this son of a bitch could slip in and out without being caught. What was he, Spiderman or something? They could look at this new body, but he knew they wouldn't find a damn thing that would help them. And the guy was probably long gone by now and out of their jurisdiction.

Maybe he should give JJ that call after all.

His thoughts cease when he feels a kiss on his bare shoulder. Two arms wrap around his neck from behind and he feels his wife's swollen belly on his spine.

"Call her, Mari. You know that she and the team will be happy to help." she says kissing along the inside of his neck.

"Was planning on it, cherie." he said, turning his head, kissing her. When they pull apart, he cups her cheek. "You know I don't wanna go right?"

Gabby nods. "But it'll drive you crazy not to know who did this and why. A crazy, brooding Will is not exactly the kind I or our little girl want to have to deal with. So go."

She kisses him once again, this time lingering on his lips longer than the last. When they break the kiss, he leans in further and rubs his nose into hers. "How in the hell does a son of a bitch like get lucky to have someone like you in his life?"

"Luck of the Lamontagnes I guess." Gabby jokes and he laughs lightly along with her. She slaps him on the back and playfully shoves him out of the bed.

Will makes his way to the bathroom, hoping upon hope that Beau had a steaming, extra large mug of coffee and a few donuts waiting for him at the scene.

* * *

**9:30 am **

**FBI headquarters, Quantico Virginia**

**Penelope Garcia's lair**

The normally bubbly and effervescent technical analyst, Penelope Garcia, sat slumped over one of her babies. She had spent a majority of the night before skyping with mister wonderful. After nearly two weeks of missed calls and promises to catch up each other, he finally managed to catch her on the video calling program. He didn't go into detail about his latest assignment, since it was technically classified information. But he did tell her about his close call the other day with an IED exploding a few yards away from his convoy. His bosses gave him the rest of the day off and he wanted to spend it with his girlfriend, which made the blond secretly swoon.

She caught him up on everything that was going on at the office and excitedly told him about how she was teaching Rossi how to make a vegan friendly version of a fettuccine dish. He came into her office a couple of days ago, asking for some information and stole a bit of the fettuccine that she made last night in for lunch, while she went to print out his stuff. When she came back into the room, he had a mouthful of noddles in his mouth and some sauce on his beard. He asked her what it was and she told him it was a vegan fettuccine. He reluctantly conceded that this was the best he's had in a while and convinced her to come to over to his place and give him the recipe. When they were done, they kicked back with their food, a nice malt and Louis Armstrong serenading them with his trumpet. He also tried to get her to tell him who this mystery guy is. Mr. Wonderful laughed heartily and got a real kick out of the older agent's antics.

Garcia couldn't believe how well things were going so well with this guy. He was her complete and total opposite in every way, especially personality wise. But for some reason, they managed to make it work. They spent the rest of the night talking and telling each other how much they missed each other. When Penelope felt herself get tired, he stayed on the line until he was called out by one of his bosses on the assignment. She only managed to get about forty-five minutes of sleep before she found herself quickly throwing an outfit on with mismatched socks and running out of the door.

The blond has had three cups of coffee and a blueberry muffin, yet that hadn't done anything to give her the energy that she desperately needed for the morning. She hadn't even bothered to go into the bullpen to see the boys and Blake because she didn't have the energy to come up with her usual witty barbs and comebacks. So she went straight to her office and booted up her babies. She closed her eyes when the first screen came to life and was snoring by the time the main monitor sprung to life.

Garcia didn't hear the click-clacking of the liaison's black heels of her best friend entering into her domain.

Wearing her dark navy blue shirt, black work slacks and one of Emily's old black and silver watch turned on the inside, JJ walked into the door way of the Garcia's office. The blond liaison had been there since seven thirty this morning, getting back to various detectives who wanted consultations on their cases. She had gotten through a majority of the cases on her desk, with profiles on the guys that they were looking for and politely telling them that they would not need the BAU's assistance. There were a couple of interesting cases on her desk that seemed promising, a string of abductions and murders of female college students in Albuquerque. And a possible serial killer in Sacramento. She was going to hand Morgan and Rossi both files to see if they should give the detectives there the green light.

Every morning at exactly eight-thirty, Garcia would burst into her office and spend nearly an hour gossiping, talking about her mystery guy and talk about JJ's lack of a love life. Trying to convince her to go out on a few dates with her single men and women friends. The quirky technical analyst even managed to get Blake to not so subtly set her up with a few of her older graduate and PHD students. No matter how many times JJ tried to tell both women that she was happy focusing on her jobs and Henry. That she wasn't actively looking for anyone at the moment. Luckily Hotch, Morgan or Rossi would come in and save the day, by telling them that they had a case.

But this morning when she looked up from her file at eight thirty, expecting her loud daily hello sugar plum greeting, JJ became concerned. Either Pen wasn't here today or she was caught up at the office. Wanting to check and see, JJ grabbed the two cups of coffee that she had gotten fro herself and her best friend this morning and made her way down to the office. Along the way, the blond ran into Andersen, who told her that he saw Pen, sleeping in her office.

A predatory smirk appears on the blond's lips as she thanks the agent for the tip and makes her way to technical analyst's lair. When she gets to the doorway, JJ makes sure to take smaller steps being careful not to disturb the other sleeping blond. She steps behind her big black chair, listening as Pen turns her head into the opposite direction and snorts. The liaison shakes her head at her best friend and maneuvers her arm around the chair, setting the coffee away from the analyst's precious computers.

A chorus of snores suddenly erupts from the chair and JJ has to do everything within her power to not bust out laughing. She takes her free hand and brushes it lightly against the analyst's neck.

"AHHH!" the technical analyst screams as she jolts awake.

The liaison watches as her best friend suddenly jumps out of her seat and hits JJ's coffee with her purple sweater clad arm. The coffee tumbles all over her dark shirt and Penelope manages to knock her own mug onto the floor. Even though the profiler hadn't anticipated her own coffee being spilled, Garcia's reaction had made it worth it. She smiles and laughs wildly at her best friend's over reaction.

The technical analyst turns around, scowling at her best friend, which causes JJ to laugh harder.

"Not funny Jareau! Especially not after the last case with that creepazoid!" Garcia remands the snorting blond. She reaches over to her desk drawer and pulls out a medium sized hand towel. She shoves it into her best friend's hands and turns her chair around to face the media liaison.

"Sorry Pen. Just couldn't help myself." JJ says, after she manages to calm down a little. She wipes the coffee off of her shirt and throws the towel back, with it landing in Garcia's lap. "I take it you had a long night with the mysterious stranger."

"Only to you sugarplum and yes, it was amazing." Garcia tells her with a dreamy smile and gaze on face. "He was amazing as well. And dreamy."

"Aww, did the oracle of Quantico experiment with 'skype sex' last night." JJ said, wiggling her eyebrows only to have the towel thrown back in her face.

"No way my dirty bird. Get that pretty little head of yours out of the gutter." Garcia leans further back into the chair. "Besides, there were way too many people around him to even think about 'skyping'. I am a lot of things, but unfortunately for you, exhibitionist is not one of them."

"That's a shame because I so was looking forward to living vicariously through you." JJ says cheekily as she walks over to the other chair and sits down in it. She lies back and turns it to face Garcia.

"You wouldn't have to live vicariously through me, if you would stop being so damn picky." JJ shrugs her suggestion off. JJ knew that at some point and time, she would have to accept the fact that Emily was gone and move on already. She just wasn't sure if she was ready to do it right now. It was easy for everyone to tell her to move on with her life, it's all the blond has heard since her relatively amicable split with Will. If only the team knew the real reason why dating someone was not an option. JJ couldn't help but think that for being some of the best team of profilers on the country, they really did suck when it came to understanding each other's romantic entanglements.

The media liaison felt silly pining over someone that she never actually had the chance to date but for some reason, she couldn't help herself. She looks down at the minute hand of the watch to avoid Garcia's concerned gaze.

The technical analyst scoots her chair closer to her best friend and puts a comforting hand on her shoulder and before she could voice her concerns, the media liaison's phone chirped. She looks down at the Iphone and sees that it's a text message with the name Cajun highlighted. Will

_**Are you busy? Can you voice conference wit me right now? Its an emergency- Will.**_

JJ scrunches her eyebrows in concern, wondering what was going on. It couldn't possibly have anything to do with Henry, since he was fine when she dropped him off this morning. Maybe Gabby was in trouble. Whatever it was, it must have been important enough for him to text her on his week off.

_Yeah sure. Whenever you're ready-JJ_

She exits out of the messenger and taps the on video conferencing application. She sits back and waits for her ex to appear on the screen.

"Is there something going on with Will?" Garcia asks worriedly.

"I don't yet. He said it was an emergency and that he needed to conference with me ASAP." JJ replies as she is lifting the phone high enough for the technical analyst to see.

"I hope everything's alright with Gabby's alright and not having any complications or anything."

"Me too, Garcia. The fifth month is always the hardest." JJ said sympathetically. She remembers wanting anyone to use the jaws of life to get Henry out of her by the fifth mont of her pregnancy. The doctor had wanted to place her on bed rest for the duration of it, but JJ and Will both agreed that would not work at all.

Before she had a chance to think about her pregnancy any longer, the stubbly face of her ex fiance appears on the screen. He gives her a warm smile, which he returns.

"Hey dawling." Will greets in a drawl.

"Hey you." JJ said, leaning back into the chair. She notices that his eyes are red and he looked a bit hungover. "Long night with the wife?"

Will chuckles. " I wish sunshine. My morning's been longer than my evening ever was. What about you? Looking good as usual."

"Thank you kindly, sir." JJ mocks, mimicking his accent but failing miserably as he shakes his head at her. "I didn't get in until about two. _Your_ son wanted to see the midnight showing of Captain America:The Winter Solider last night with his Uncle Derek and Uncle I couldn't say no or get out of it."

"Sucks for you, Jareau. Being around all that testosterone that is." he chuckles. "Did he have a good time, at least?"

"He should have. He fell asleep in my lap as soon as that camp in New Jersey blew up. He didn't wake up again until the last twenty minutes or so of the movie."

"Aww, our little man isn't quite ready to appreciate a boys night out yet." Will says, adjusting the web cam a little.

"Thank god. I'd be in real trouble then."JJ replies a little relieved.

"As much as I'm enjoying this cute little banter going on right, I'd like to be a part of it." Garcia says impatiently, standing up and leaning over the arm of JJ's seat.

Will tilts his head, getting a better look at the technical analyst. He bows his head at the other blond and smiles.

"I apologize for my rudeness oh great Oracle of Quantico. How are ya hun?"

"All is forgiven my Cajun prince." Garcia says with a grin. "How are our Cajun princesses doing? Is everything alright with them?"

Will sighs. "Other than being mildly annoyed with this case that I'm currently working interfering with my vacation, they're doing just fine. Lily started kicking the other day and I'm starting to think we got another soccer player in the family." he finishes, winking at JJ, causing the media liaison to laugh.

"That's good to know." JJ tells him earnestly. She was happy that Will had found what he wanted and that can still be friends. "So, what's the emergency about? Why did you need a conference right now?"

Will sighs deeply, thinking that it was now or never. Running a hand through his hair, he stares into the camera with a solemn look in his eyes.

"A few months ago, there was a murder about four blocks south of Gabby and I's home. The man's name was Dustin Flanagan, retired from a successful shipping company."

"That's terrible." Garcia says, receiving a nod from Will in response.

"It was. His wife, Shelly Flanagan, found him tied up with a ball gag in his mouth, in his basement study. His record player blasting music from the night before, loud enough to wake the neighbors. Unfortunately for him, Duncan and his wife had the basement sound proofed when they moved into the house twenty years ago for that reason. Flanagan took a gunshot to the thigh, one to the abdomen and a kill shot to the temple. He had been there since nine pm last night, the last time his wife saw him alive."

"Did the unsub use a silencer?" JJ asks.

"Think so. It woulda been the only way they could kill em without his family hearing the gun go off. Problem is, we couldn't run a ballistics test to find out."

The media liaison looks on in confusion. " And why couldn't you run ballistics."

"Because, the unsub as y'all call it, didn't leave anything behind. No bullets, no shell casings. They took those wit them when they left."

JJ and Garcia share a quizzical gaze before turning back into the tiny camera of the Iphone.

" You mean to tell me that there were no finger prints, no DNA anywhere in the basement?" JJ asks skeptically.

"That's exactly what I'm saying. Crime scene unit dusted that basement and the perimeter around it from top to bottom and didn't find a damn thing." Will said frustrated.

"Did you speak with the neighbors?" JJ asks.

"Every single one of em. None of them saw anyone outside of Duncan, his wife and two daughters enter the house. The one neighbor who did notice anything only heard the sound of a car engine and said that the car was black, from what they could see from behind."

"We worked the case for a couple more months until my boss told me to mark it cold for now. The Flanagans moved out of that neighborhood soon after and his wife put the house up for sale. There was s'ppose to be an open house this afternoon but something else happened."

The profiler nods. "Which is why you wanted the conference call."

Will smiles a little, in spite of the way this conversation had gone. " You know me so well, sugah."

The serious expression reappears on his face. "This mornin, at around 5:30, the realtor stops by the house to do some last minute preparations for the open house presentation. Imagine her surprise when she discovers the body of a fifty eight year old overweight man hangin from the bannister of the stairs. She called my partner Beau, who was getting ready to go home after the night shift and reports the body. B called me and told me that I needed to get down to the house to examine the body."

The two women sit back and absorb the information.

"Was this guy shot too?" JJ asks.

" No. According to the ME's preliminary report, the second man was strangled about two days ago. His body had gone into rigor. I'll fax over the reports and crime scene photos to you when we're done."

"What makes you think that these two cases are related?" Garcia asks.

"Are you in a position to open your email, Penelope?" Will asks, with his drawl getting thicker. "I'll send you what we found."

"Give me a couple of seconds my Cajun stallion." Garcia said at the same time she turns her chair away from them and onto her main monitor. She starts typing an address into the browser for the FBI's personnel site and inserts her credentials.

"On Flanagan, we found what we initially thought was a tattoo on his chest." Will explains as Garcia gets into her email and opens the email from Will. "The medical examiner said that it wasn't a tattoo, but some kind of branding. Cecilia believes that it was done post-mortem."

Garcia clicks on the photos and enlarges them. "The first one, the tanned looking one, belongs to Flanagan. The pale one I took this morning from our unidentified man."

" Both of these were done post postmortem?" JJ asks.

"Yeah." They watch a younger detective tap Will on the shoulder and hand him a file. He skims through it before closing it again.

"Looks like our unidentified fella has a name after all. Michael McFadden of Georgetown DC."

Garcia's eyes perk up in recognition. "Wait a minute, owner of McFadden's place?"

Will nods at them and JJ's eyes look down at the watch.

"We took Emily there for her last birthday. Before Doyle." JJ notes quietly. She manages to put a little bite into Doyle's name as she says it.

"What was he doing in New Orleans?" Garcia asks, diverting the conversation for her best friend's sake.

"No idea. Maybe a last minute trip or something. Hard partying going horribly wrong." he suggests. "Tends to happen a lot here."

JJ turns away from the tiny camera and over to the technical analyst.

"Garcia, can you run a background check on our two victims. See if they have anything connecting them at all? And can you run the clovers through Vicap, in case there are other bodies matching the branding?"

"You got it my liege. Give me a few minutes to work my magic. And you'll have everything you need." Garcia said as she begins running her background check. JJ nods and turns back to Will.

"Why are you telling us about this case just now?" JJ asks curiously.

"Cause, I thought we'd get a break or something before we involved the BAU. But so far, we got nada."

Will's partner Beau walks up to him and he turns his back to the camera. They talk for a couple of moments before Will faces the camera once again.

"Sorry to cut this call short, Jajaye, but my wife is here with breakfast." Will said apologetically."But I'm coming up there this weekend to hand you all the physical evidence personally, in case y'all decide to take the case."

"I'll talk to Morgan and see if we'll work this case or not. It's his turn to wear Hotch's big boy pants for the next two weeks." JJ cracks. "I can't guarantee that he'll go for it though."

"Those are some pretty big pants to fill. Don't envy the poor guy at all. " Will chuckles. "Whateveah help you can give me on this case is appreciated. Take care, dawling and send Henry my love."

"I will. Later Will." JJ says before she disconnects the call and sets the phone down on the desk. She narrows her eyes to examine the brandings on the screen. They were definitely the same symbol, a four leaf clover, but the profiler noticed a few subtle differences to the brandings that Will might not have picked up on at first glance.

On Flanagan's, it looked like his branding was applied precisely. The lines were done perfect and the unsub didn't make any mistakes. It probably didn't take the unsub much, if any time at all to apply it and if Duncan had been alive, it wouldn't have hurt as much to put it on.

McFadden's clover was a different story though. The same precision that the unsub applied to Flanagan's clover remained the same. But it looks like the unsub took their time applying McFadden's and repeatedly went over it over and over again, until McFadden's looks more like a burn than a tattoo.

Whoever did this must have been pretty pissed off with McFadden.

"Garcia, can you blow these up and print them off for me?" JJ asks, not taking her eyes off of the screen.

"Sure." Garcia said as she completes JJ's request while the media liaison stands up and goes to the printer. As she's doing that, the flatscreen on her left starts beeping, where she was running a search through Vicap. She moves over to the left and pulls up the results. Reading through the results, Garcia's eyes widen and a gasp escapes from her lips.

"Oh dear. This is not going to be pretty."

JJ sits back down with the photos in hand. "Are homicides ever really pretty, Garcia?"

"No, but this looks like a hot damn mess." Garcia focuses her attention on one result in particular. Dated March 4,2011. "There were approximately sixteen bodies with four leaf clover seared on post postmortem, like our two gentleman in New Orleans. Three in New York, six in Boston, two in LA and four right here in DC."

"Great, we're dealing with a possible serial killer whose mobile. Those are always fun." JJ said sarcastically.

"It's gets more fun from there sugar." Garcia says solemnly. "One of the bodies, it wasn't actually seared on. It was a tattoo." JJ looks at her inquisitively and starts to ask her what that's about.

Only to be interrupted when the technical analyst turns in her chair to face her.

"Do you remember the name Byron Delaney?"

JJ frowns. "Vaguely, but remind me does he have to with this case?"

"While you were working in the State Department, we got a case involving the murders of two families. One looked like a murder-suicide, while the other was a gas leak. Turns out we had it wrong and they were cover ups. Later on, we found out that the victims worked for some secret international security organization. Specifically, the one that was responsible for Ian Doyle's capture and imprisonment." Garcia said quietly. "Delaney was the handler for JTF-12."

Blue eyes widen in shock and disbelief. It couldn't be, not after two years of nothing but the occasional unconfirmed sightings and dead ends.

"The group Prentiss worked with before she came to the BAU." the media liaison says quietly.

"Precisely doll." Garcia said sadly. " Hotch sent Morgan and Prentiss to interview Delaney, only to be ambushed by Doyle and his men when they got there. Emily managed to shoot one of his henchmen in the knee, taking him down. Doyle managed to finish him off but not before shooting off his managed to recreate it from parts left on his skin. It was a four leaf clover." She pulls up the unidentified man's tattoo for JJ to see it.

"This looks exactly like the ones branded onto our victims in New Orleans." JJ points out.

The blonds sit in silence for a few moments, mulling over the possibility that Doyle has returned and what it could mean for them and for Declan. Would he try to finish what he started with Prentiss and come after the rest of the members of the BAU and the people that they loved? Would he come after the people that they loved, like he had with the JTF-12 until he got what he wanted, Declan?

_Jareau, you can't think like that. This could still all be a coincidence. _ The media liaison takes a deep breath and quickly composes herself. She stands up and makes her way to the door.

"Garcia I need everything that you can find on our New Orleans victims in my office ASAP and don't work _anything _else until you do. If they have any possible connection to Doyle at all,I want to know about it. This is our priority right now." JJ orders."I'm going to talk to Derek about this ."

"You got it." Garcia says turning around and starts working on the other victims while the background searches continue to run for McFadden and Flanagan. The media liaison walks out of the office but stops as she remembers something.

"Garcia."

The technical analyst turns around and glances at JJ. "Yeah?"

"Don't tell the others yet. Let's keep this between the two of us and Morgan." JJ requests quietly.

Garcia nods, understanding exactly where her friend was coming from and goes back to work. While secretly hoping that this will be the break that they were looking for. If this in fact Doyle announcing that he is back and ready for round two, the team would be better prepared to face him than they had the last time.

* * *

**10:30 am**

**Unknown hotel room**

The dark figure stands motionless in front of the mirror gazing at their reflection. They hadn't bothered to take off the mask after McFadden. They were too ashamed to look at themselves after the red head was killed.

The figure hadn't meant to strangle him in the manner that they had, but something inside of them just snapped when he saw the way that he treated that girl. Suddenly any remorse that the figure may have had for what was about to happen to McFadden evaporated. He felt no remorse for what he had done to that girl. And the figure was sure that he felt that way about anything else he may have done to the people he killed. The many families who received their presumably missing loved ones dismembered in bags or disposed of in dumpsters. All for what, making a deal with the devil? But why should he feel guilt or remorse? McFadden was living the good life on the blood spilt of others. As far as he was concerned, he was living his happily ever after and he was foolish enough to think of himself as invincible. _At least until he met me that is._

Their boss is not going to like the fact that they had showed a moment of weakness and lost control. The figure was expecting a call from the burner charging into the wall at any time saying as much and probably more. The dark figure gazes into the mirror like all the times they had before, and found that as each day passes, it was getting that much harder to look at the mask staring back at them. They didn't know how much longer they could keep this up without coming completely unhinged. They needed to end this soon and the figure knew that they could not wait on their bosses' say so to do it.

It was why they took Flanagan back to New Orleans and hung him in their last victim's home. The figure hoped that someone in the New Orleans homicide would be smart enough to connect the dots and link the murders together. That would definitely piss the bosses off for sure.

The dark figure looks over to the picture that is taped on the bathroom mirror. It was a little blond boy, dressed in a Captain America costume, sprawled tiredly across his beautiful mother's shoulder. He had seen them in the movie theater and waved happily in their direction. The mother and the two men who were with her, a scrawny man wearing a sweater vest and a blazer. And a tall, muscular, good looking black man cleanly shaven. They probably wrote off the wave as excitement for the upcoming movie. He had told the figure, during one of their night visits, that he was excited to go see it with his mommy, Uncle Derek and Uncle Reid. Then he proceeded to pretend to be the superhero while the figure watched from the chair. The figure watched the boy playing happily and felt something other than the pain, anger and sorrow their job brought them, joy. Whenever the dark figure could, they would visit the boy and watch him play. Sometimes, they would quietly join the boy in his roleplaying.

The dark figure strokes the picture tenderly, suddenly renewed with purpose and commitment to what they have to do, even if it did rip a piece of them in two every time. The figure was filled with hope that they would get to see the young boy in the light of day instead of the shadows of the night and everything would be out in the open in due time.

The phone buzzes and then rings with a familiar standard ringtone, causing the figure to sorrowfully step away from the mirror and the picture.

Time to go to work. Again.

* * *

**AN: Wow, thank you all for the responses to this was a lot more than I was expecting and it means a lot to me that you enjoy it. Hope you enjoyed reading this installment of the story and that you stick around for more. Next time JJ talks to Morgan and discuss what is going to happen next. There may or may not be a little more information on our dark figure revealed next chapter.**


	3. Debriefings

The media liaison strides quickly down the walkway of the now crowded bullpen, staring straight ahead and paying little attention to her surroundings. She ignores the warm greeting from Anderson who only shrugs at her retreating figure. When she get to the team's work station, she doesn't notice the two brunette doctors nearby looking up from their daily crossword puzzle and glancing in her with intrigue as she moves past them. JJ would have continued on to Morgan's office, had she not felt the paper ball smack the back of her head.

She turns around with a steely gaze, ready to chew out the person who did it, when she notices the mop top, light brown hair of one Spencer Reid bury himself further into the crossword book. Today he was wearing his plaid sweater vest with a blazer and blue skinny jeans ensemble to go with it. He looks up at her then bashfully turns back to the puzzle in his hand, avoiding the blond at all cost. Blake, who is wearing a black blazer and pants, along with a white blouse with the first two buttons undone. The new agent was doing her best not to give the other doctor up, by looking away from the media liaison and stifling her laughter behind her hand.

JJ smiles and shakes her head at the two doctors' antics as she walks over to Reid's chair. Blake and Reid really were two peas in a pod. The blond was happy that the young doctor had someone on the team that he could relate to better on the team, that fortunately enjoyed the same things that the young doctor had unsuccessfully tried to get the rest of them to enjoy.

"Spence." JJ greets, taking the opportunity to ruffle his messy brown locks, making the young doctor squirm and sink further into his black leather chair. She steps away from Reid, who goes back to his crossword with a small smile on his face. While the media liaison takes that as her cue to turn her attention towards the linguist sitting with her ankle boots crossed together on Reid's desk. She gives the doctor a tight smile. "Blake."

Alex smiles, nodding and waves lightly at the liaison. "JJ. How's your morning going?"

"I've had better, honestly." JJ says hesitantly, as she thinks about Will's case and the possible link to Doyle. The liaison acts quickly, as not to arouse any suspicion from the two doctors, and switches her thoughts over to her little star instead.

"But you should see Henry. Poor kid could barely keep his head up at breakfast this morning. I felt so bad for him that I was tempted to give him my morning expresso shot before school."Blake and Reid laugh lightly at the blond's story.

"I take it he won't be up for anymore midnight showings with Morgan and Reid anytime soon?" Blake asks the blond.

JJ chuckles. " Thankfully, not in the foreseeable future. I think he'll stick to matinees for a while."

"Isn't that right, Spence?" JJ turns and steels her eyes to the young doctor. She smiles before whacking him in the back of the head with the folder.

"Ouch!" Reid said, rubbing his head a little. "Whatever you say JJ. As long as it keeps me from getting hit like that again. Do you know how sensitive the occiput of the skull can be?"

"Oh yeah, it's very sensitive." the blond said sarcastically "I'm sure yours will be just fine, egghead." JJ brushes him off, and pats him in the back of the head for good measure. This time, Reid had been expecting her attack, so he playfully pushes her hand away from his head.

"Consulting on a new case ?" Blake asks, finally taking notice of the file, instantly halting the two agent's roughhousing. It had the official FBI seal incased on the front. It looked a little too thin to be a new case, so the linguist figured that it had to be a consult.

JJ's playful expression disappears and her mood sobers again as the liaison remembers what she was supposed to be doing. She briefly glances down at the file and bites a part of her lip.

Outside of Garcia, the rest of the team weren't aware of the fact that herself, Morgan and Garcia have been looking for Doyle off the clock for the last two and a half years. The media liaison had her suspicions that Rossi know what they were doing. But as far as the three of them knew, Reid, Hotch and Blake were still in the dark about their investigation. They had quietly taken over the tips line from Anderson that Hotch had set up after Prentiss' death.

The three of them chipped in and got Anderson every Star Trek television series that they could find as payment for the hesitant agent's silence. The three of them would alternate going over to each other's places, whenever they weren't away on a case, filtering through and organizing each and every tip that came in about Doyle. Over the last two and a half years, the three agents were only able to confirm about twenty of those sightings that could possibly be Doyle, at least until today.

JJ makes a note to herself to have Morgan and Garcia go through those tips and eliminate the ones that coincide with the dates of their possible victim's deaths.

The two agents and analyst kept the team in the dark because they didn't want to get anyone's hopes up about successfully finding and capturing Doyle. From what they knew of him, based on the limited profile given to them by Interpol, he didn't seem like the type of guy who would surrender easily or be taken into custody alive. If they did happen to get lucky one day and find Doyle's location, he could still have contacts around the city that would likely give him a heads up about them finding him. There was a good chance that by the time they got clearance to go after him and put together a SWAT team to raid his location, he would be out of the state before they had the opportunity to knock down his door.

The three of them were also concerned of what kind of toll their investigation could have on Reid, JJ especially. Out of everyone on the team, the young genius had taken Emily's death the hardest and he was just starting to come around from it all.

Before JJ came back to the BAU, Reid had come to her during the team's annual evaluations and expressed his interest in requesting a transfer to another unit within the FBI. He figured that since he couldn't protect Emily in the same way that she had always protected him, then there was no point to being in the BAU anymore. He felt that if the team could not see that one of their own was in trouble and protect them accordingly, then how were they supposed to protect the public from unsubs? Luckily, JJ was able to convince him to stay with the team. It didn't hurt that he was the second person, behind Rossi, that knew of her return to the BAU.

Reid had made such progress in the last two years, in accepting Emily's death. He started working on his masters for psychology and has even started dating a woman named Maeve within the last month or so. JJ had feared that if they did include him in the investigation and they never capture Doyle, the blond didn't want the young doctor to blame himself for it and cause him to regress back to the dark place that he was in before. She would never forgive herself if he lost everything he had gained recently because they had decided to get his hopes up and they weren't successful.

A part of the blond also protected Reid because still carried the burden of knowing that Emily managed to stay alive for a year and four months before her true death, in the name of keeping the brunette safe. Reid would never understand that she and Hotch couldn't tell anyone that she was really alive. He would be furious and she would lose a friend and the little brother she never had in the process. The liaison had already lost one person that she cared about, she wasn't about to lose another over something that didn't matter anymore.

So JJ did what she always did whenever Reid or Blake would catch her working on the Doyle case. Lie through her teeth.

"Not really." JJ said cooly, her lie temporarily placating the doctors before her, as she slightly holds up the folder. "This may be our new case, at least it will be once I sell Morgan on it."

"That's rather unusual. It looks like there's barely anything in there." Reid says, pointing to the flimsy file in the liaison's hands.

"You're right about that Spence, there is nothing there." JJ confirms. "According to Will, there was no trace evidence left at the scene and the causes of death for both victims were different. The only two things connecting them is that they were both branded with the same symbol postmortem and victim number two was found in victim number one's old house."

"Sounds like that is going to be a fun one to work." Blake said sarcastically, nodding the liaison's direction.

JJ smiles and chuckles lightly. " I know, right."

"Actually that sounds like it might be intriguing." Reid adds excitedly, leaning forward in his seat. He reaches out for the folder. "Do you mind if I take a look at the pictures? Maybe I could offer a bit of insight before you go into the lion's den?"

JJ clutches the folder closer to her chest. "That won't be necessary Spence. But thanks for the offer."

The blond knew that the moment Reid looked at the brandings, he would be able to connect them to Doyle. He had managed to figure out the tattoo on the John Doe that Doyle shot's body. The questions that would follow from the young doctor were not ones that the blond was not ready to answer for yet. At least not until she ran this by Morgan and Garcia, with the three of them deciding where they would go from there.

"I should probably go and give these to Morgan first. Hopefully I'll see you guys in the conference room later for the briefing." JJ says as she walks hastily away from them and to the hallway leading to Morgan's office. She missed the strange and inquisitive looks that the two doctors were giving her retreating form.

Reid places the crossword on the desk and stares out into the bullpen. He couldn't explain it, but he felt something in the pit of his stomach when JJ was going through the case. JJ's strange behavior and hurried exit had done nothing to calm those worries. He had only felt this foreboding a few times before in his nine years at the bureau. The Foyet case and it's aftermath. The pig farmer. The Fisher Hankel. And the moment he figured out that Emily was Lauren Reynolds, Doyle's endgame.

"What are you thinking?" Blake asks gently with a hint of concern. Reid redirects his gaze towards the other doctor.

"It's nothing, it's ridiculous." Reid tries to brush off. But when he looks into Alex's concerned eyes, he feels compelled to tell her. He sighs " We're not even assigned to it yet and I feel like something doesn't feel right about this case. I'm just not sure what that is yet."

Blake nods, silently agreeing with the mop topped man. "Whatever that is, I'm sure it'll make more sense if we get the go ahead to work the case."

The older doctor then picks up the crossword and places it back into Reid's hands.

"Until then, we are going to finish this crossword and start on the Sudoku next." Blake said as she handed the pen over to Reid.

The young doctor smiles and starts working on the next line with Blake hunched over his shoulder. Even though his worries were still present, he managed to file them away in the back of his mind for now. Right now, he would concern himself with trying to figure out who this Finnish hockey player was and why the New York Times thought this man was relevant to the puzzle.

* * *

Leaning comfortably back in his leather chair with his feet kicked up on top of the desk, Morgan closed his eyes and placed his arms behind his head. He was still recovering from the events of the midnight movie premiere with Henry, Reid and JJ. As well as that unexpected, yet very necessary after movie nightcap with the cute brunette honey who sat two seats down from them.

The temporary agent in charge was also celebrating the fact that for the first time since he started working for the BAU, Morgan had no paperwork waiting for him in his incoming folder. His consults were in and sitting neatly among the many, many files that JJ goes through each day. Outside of the night stalker case in Miami two weeks ago, they haven't had a case needing their attention since. As far as he was concerned, life was indeed very good at the moment and he was going to enjoy it to the fullest.

As he drifts off to sleep, his eyes landing on a picture of his smiling mother and sisters from her birthday party last year. He makes a note to ask Cruz, the BAU's new section chief, for some vacation time within the next week or so to go visit them.

A light knock disrupts his peace, bringing the agent out of his comfort zone. He moves his feet off the desk, turns the chair facing the center of the desk once again and straightens his back in the chair.

Morgan then places his arms on top of the desk preparing himself for his visitor, putting on his mask of professional demeanor.

"Come in" Derek said calling out to whoever was on the other side.

When JJ steps into his office, the sitting agent relaxes his shoulders a bit. His serious expression morphs into a bright smile.

"Hey mama bear." Morgan greets casually. "How are we doing this fine, fine morning? Hopefully as well as I am, in spite of the late night." He wiggles his bushy eyebrows, reaches over and lightly slugs her shoulder.

JJ returns the smile, with a brief, tired one of her own and sits down in the chair in front of his desk.

"Yeah well, if I woke up this morning with a naked Karen in my bed, I'd be happy too." JJ remarks cheekily, winking at Morgan, who chuckles at her. "Instead, I got a cranky five year old who buried himself under his covers and refused to come out because he didn't want to go to school today. As well as a lovely video chat from his father, all before I had a chance to take a sip out of my morning coffee."

His playful glint in his eyes evaporates and quickly turns into concern. "Are Will and Gabby doing okay? Is there something wrong with the baby?"

"Will, Gabby and the baby are doing fine." JJ reassures him. "But he wasn't all that happy to be interrupted the first day of his long vacation to work a case that went cold a few months ago."

Derek nods in sympathetic understanding. "I can definitely relate to that. You don't know how many dates, that in the last year alone, I've had to cancel on because we were working a case. I'm just glad we've finally caught a bit of a break now."

Morgan looks at her and sees a look of skepticism flash in her eyes before she looks down at the file in front of her. He sighs and looks down at the folder in front of her. _So much for that impromptu vacation._

"Will's case is why you're here isn't it?" Derek asks knowingly.

The liaison opens up the folder and pulls out the photos.

"Sorry." JJ says apologetically as she sets the photos in front of him. He picks up the photo belonging to Duncan Flanagan and starts to examine the branding. The four leaf clover caught his attention immediately. He had come across it a couple of times in the file that he had on Doyle. _But it could be just a coincidence. _Morgan tries to reassure himself, not wanting to think about what the alternative could mean.

"The victims are two Caucasian males in their late fifties, early sixties, killed nine months apart. "JJ tells him, pointing to the picture in his hand.

"The first victim, the one you're holding, Duncan Flanagan, was the owner a successful shipping company as well as a string of warehouses in New Orleans and Baltimore, until his retirement last year. He was killed on July 30th, 2013, at around ten pm. He was found by his wife, Shelly Flanagan, tied up in a chair with a ball gag in his mouth. Flanagan was shot three times once in his left thigh, another one on the right side of his abdomen. The last one was a shot to the temple that killed him instantly."

"According to her, Duncan had been down there since at least nine pm the following night. It was something he did every night, which is why she hadn't bothered to look for him when he didn't come to bed that night.

None of the neighbors saw anyone else enter and exit the house, outside of Mr and Mrs Flanagan and their sixteen year old daughter, Elle. Any shell casings that came from the gun, the unsub took with them. The basement was cleaned meticulously from top to bottom, leaving nothing behind in the process. "

"Nothing? Are they sure of that?" Morgan asks skeptically.

"Absolutely nothing, according to Will. The medical examiner there couldn't even tell what gun this unsub may have used on Duncan." JJ said.

Derek puts the photo of Flanagan's branding down and picks up the photo with the paler complexion of Michael McFadden.

"At about five thirty this morning the second victim, Michael McFadden's, body was found in the Flanagan Flanagan's old home was scheduled to be shown for an open house this afternoon.

The realtor found him hanging from the bannister when she came in to do some last minute touch ups. They're still trying to figure out how he got to New Orleans in the first place and how he died. The only way they were able to connect him to Flanagan, besides being found in Duncan's old house is-"

"The brandings." Derek says finishing the sentence for her. "Were they done pre or post mortem?"

"Post. But take a look at this." JJ answers, pointing to the lines on Flanagan's design. "Flanagan's branding looks like it was only traced over once." She then picks up McFadden's branding and they both see red, angry lines that this unsub practically seared into the paler man's body. "McFadden's on the other hand, looks like it was traced multiple times. With the unsub apparently pressing harder into his skin each time."

Derek nods, agreeing with the blond's assessment. "McFadden must have been more personal for the unsub than Flanagan."

JJ nods in agreement as Morgan leans back in his chair to think about it for a bit.

"Will's case is a little bit out there, but why do you think this case is BAU case?" Derek said as he handed the pictures back to JJ. He is still a bit skeptical on whether or not they should take this case. He wanted to give the team a bit of a break after all the work they had being doing as of late, in Hotch's absence. He didn't want them to pack up and go to New Orleans unless they had a damned good reason to. "Are there even any other bodies matching this unsub's MO?"

"According to Garcia, there are about sixteen other unsolved murder cases, in which the victims were branded with this clover postmortem over the last two and a half years." JJ said, watching the dark man's brown eyes widen. "She's looking through Interpol's database as we speak, to see if they have any unsolved cases over there matching this signature."

"Wow, this unsub has been very busy." Derek said sighing, knowing that this would most likely be their next case. _Guess it's off to the Big Easy, again._

"It gets worse." JJ says. "One the bodies that came up in Garcia's search, didn't actually belong to a victim."

Derek scoots up further in his seat. "What?"

JJ sighs, knowing that it was now or never. "The prints matched the body of a John Doe, killed March 3, 2011."

Derek's eyes widen and his mouth forms an elongated 'oh' in shock and realization. "It can't be."

"He was one of Ian Doyle's younger recruits and one of the men who shot at you and Prentiss while you were at Byron Delaney's home. He apparently had a four leaf clover tattoo-"

"That Ian shot off as he sped away."Derek said quietly as he put his hands in his head, slumping into the chair, feeling a rush of rage overcome him.

It's been three years since he last heard the name Byron Delaney or even spoken of that pivotal night before Emily disappeared on them. The night that would ultimately seal her fate and lead her into the inferno of Ian Doyle's wrath.

The dark agent still could not believe that he hadn't seen the signs then. Or even taken note of that night, of the fact that Emily anticipated Doyle's every move at Delaney's house and reacted accordingly. He had been too preoccupied about not being shot at that he did not see the familiarity resting in those expressive brown. Maybe if he had and was able to tell Hotch sooner, that maybe the team would have been able to convince her to stay and accept their help. Maybe she would still be alive today and in her rightful place on the team, like she should have been. She would still be his partner and selfishly, he would still have one of his best friend's around. His conscience would be clear and he would not have to hold her dying hand in his own almost every other night in his nightmares.

For the next few minutes, the two agents sit in an uncomfortable silence. JJ fought the urge to reach across the desk and provide her friend with some comfort, after seeing the conflicting emotions flash across the agent's dark brown eyes. She wanted to tell him that it was not his fault and that Emily would not have blamed him for not knowing about her connection with Doyle and not getting to her in time. The blond would tell him every night that they spent working late at the office and sifting through numerous tips about Ian's supposed whereabouts. She told him each time a tip lead them to another dead end and the loud thundering of the papers being flung across the room in his displaced frustration. Each time Morgan would say that he knows, but the liaison knew that he never really believed it. In those times, JJ had nearly told Derek that Emily was still alive and was okay somewhere, as far as she knew. But now, the blond couldn't even comfort her friend with that thought.

So she sat there patiently, waiting for him to go through whatever he needed to go through to focus again. She had a feeling that this case would finally lead them to their endgame, Ian Doyle. The liaison and Garcia needed Derek's head in this one hundred percent if they were going to finally catch the bastard. They couldn't afford to lose him now.

"Do you really think that these two victims are related to Doyle?" Derek asks looking up at the blond and rubbing his chin a little.

"I wouldn't rule out the possibility. Garcia is still looking into their backgrounds and she should be getting back to me about it soon-" JJ said, but is interrupted when Morgan's office phone starts ringing. He picks up the black phone and puts it to his ear.

"Agent Morgan." he answers formally.

"_Hello my chocolate God of love." Garcia says as she is typing something into her computer. "Am I interrupting anything or are you always this glad to see me?" A small pout appears on the technical analyst's face._

Morgan smiles wide, in spite of this latest piece of news. Garcia always seem to have that effect on him.

"Hey baby girl. You already know that my mornings don't begin until I hear your lovely voice whispering in my ear." he says smoothly.

"_I know." Garcia says, crossing one leg over the other in her oversized chair. "I just like hearing you say it from time to time."_

Morgan laughs and he looks at JJ, who playfully roles her eyes at the exchange. If Garcia wasn't so infatuated with her mystery man, JJ probably would have tried to get those two together once and for all.

"And no, you did not interrupt anything." Morgan said relaxing into his chair. " JJ and I were discussing the case that Will talked to you two about this morning."

"_You have no idea how perfect that is, my love." Garcia said excitedly. "Now put me on speaker so that our princess can hear this too."_

Morgan presses a button on his phone, placing the phone on speaker. "You're on speaker now, baby girl, behave."

"_Like I would ever be able to do that with my chocolate Adonis and blond goddess of love on the line?" Garcia says flirtatiously. "Jayje!"_

Morgan chuckles and JJ finds herself smiling.

"Hey Garcia. What do you have for us on our New Orleans victims? Anything good?" JJ asks.

"_It depends on your definition of good, my lovely." Garcia says apprehensively. "If you mean that there was a possibility that both men were connected to Doyle, then yes they were and it's good for us. Or if you mean good as in both of their records are squeaky and they were practically boy scouts, then I'm afraid not. In fact, I felt like I needed a long, scalding hot shower after reading McFadden's extensive record, that was apparently expunged by a judge months before he came stateside."_

"And what about your Interpol search? Did you get anything hits from them?" JJ asks.

"_I certainly did. Interpol has nine open murder cases where the victims were branded postmortem with a four leaf clover, like McFadden and Flanagan. And let tell you, the way this unsub kills their victims is **beyond** brutal." Garcia finishes as she shivers slightly in her chair, trying to rid her thoughts of the images that she saw from Interpol's files that would not be leaving her consciousness anytime soon._

"Were they connected to Doyle?" Morgan asks.

"_Possibly. It's going to take me a while to get more detailed background information on each of the victims though. But I can give you a comprehensive list of names of the victims we have so far, which I will also send to your respective emails."_

"Go ahead Garcia." JJ says.

"_The Boston victims are: Claire Dunlap, Malcolm McKeen, Victor Montrose, Eva Sinclair and Maureen and Oliver O'Brien. In Los Angeles; Sheamus Nielsen, Timothy McPhee and Marie O'Hare. Right here in DC: Judson Harris, Ethan Hutchinson, Owen McPherson and Scotty Harrelson. And in Interpol's database: Charlotte Pierre, Shane Pearson, Corey Morrison, Jonathan Tierny, Jack Dawson, John McGee, April Hudson and Lionel Coulson." _

"Are they all Irish immigrants?" Morgan asks.

"_Half of them were. The others do have relatives that live there, but they were born else where. Like Victor Montrose, who was born and raised in Liverpool, England."_

"Interesting." Morgan says to JJ. "I still wouldn't rule out any possible associations and connections to the IRA or any paramilitary groups. Garcia, when you get into the victims that we have so far's lives, can you make sure to include that in your search as well?"

"_Anything for you my Adonis." Garcia says with a smile._

JJ shrugs off Garcia's comment, while Morgan shakes his head with a smile at the technical analyst's indiscretion.

"So what do we know about Flanagan and McFadden?" JJ asks, getting back to the grim topic at hand. "Is there anything in their pasts that could have possibly connected them to Doyle?"

"_With the exception of hailing from Dublin, Ireland and being successful business owners, nothing my sugar plum."Garcia answers as she puts the information that she has on McFadden and Flanagan on the main monitor."They literally could not be more different if they tried."_

"_Duncan came from an affluent old money family from South Dublin. Graduated from Trinity College's business program at the top of his class for undergrad and Oxford for his MBA. He married Shelly O'Keeffe, also a native of south Dublin, a few days after graduating from Oxford. They have two daughters, Elizabeth Rose, who followed in her mother's footsteps and became a lawyer. She's engaged to her boyfriend of five years and they live in San Francisco. They are expecting their first child in June. The other daughter, Eileen 'Elle' May Flanagan was born in 1998 and is a bit of a piano virtuoso." _

"Elle was the one home when her father was murdered?" JJ asks.

"_More than likely. " Garcia answers " Flanagan also had an older brother named Gerald, who inherited their father's businesses after his death in 1999. Interestingly enough, Duncan visited his brother a few weeks before he was murdered."_

JJ sat up straighter in the chair, her interest peaked at this new information. Flanagan would have been in Dublin the week that Emily . "Really?"

"_Yeah." Garcia said as she opens up a file containing Flanagan's airline records. " And it looks like the trip was spur of the moment one. He booked the flight an hour before it was scheduled to take off on the twelfth of , he only ended up staying until the fourteenth before he flew back to New Orleans."_

The media liaison's posture becomes more rigid and her hands ball into a fist as she takes in this information. She remembers being awaken on the morning of the thirteenth by the sound of her phone to a call from Cruz, who happened to be her former boss at the State Department. He told her that there had been a leak within their department and that Leanne Raymond, Emily's cover, had been compromised. A few guys in North Dublin who were still loyal to Doyle, found her and another agent in a nearby pub and attacked them in the back alleyway. According to Cruz, she never stood a chance and bled out quickly from being stabbed several times.

If they were right about Flanagan's connection to Doyle and he was somehow responsible for Emily's death, then JJ was secretly ecstatic that this unsub got to him before she did.

"You alright, JJ?" Morgan asks, after seeing how tense the media liaison had become.

"Yeah, Derek, I'm fine." JJ replies, brushing off his concern. She turns toward the speaker phone, avoiding the agent's questioning gaze. "What do you have on McFadden, Garcia?"

"_Michael McFadden."Garcia says pulling up the file on the second victim. A black and white picture of an eighteen year old Michael McFadden, looking into the camera with a crooked grin on his freckled face."Born January 27th, 1955. No kids, that he knew of, never married but he did have plenty of women in his little black book, who had nothing nice to say about him at all. He was collared a few times for theft, public intoxication, attempted murder, aggravated and sexual assault, which he ended up serving five years for." _

"That seems like a pretty light sentence." Morgan observes.

"_He was a juvenile at the time he committed his crimes. The most he could get was reform school before being transferred to an adult prison as soon as he turned eighteen to serve out the rest of his sentence." Garcia points out. "When he got out at twenty-one on good behavior, McFadden started working as a cook at a diner in the Ballymum neighborhood, according to his former parole officer. He stayed under the radar for about a year and worked there without any complaints." _

"He became a model citizen then?" JJ asked.

"_Pretty much." Garcia confirms. " He reported to his parole officer on time every month. He found a place three months after he got out and kept it squeaky clean. Michael even volunteered every other weekend at one of the homeless shelters nearby."_

"_But by June of 1977, he apparently has a change of heart. He walks into his boss' office, hands in his apron and quits without any explanation. His boss was getting ready to promote him to head chef too. A couple of weeks later, his parole officer tries to contact him to see what went wrong. No answer. He then makes a surprise home visit, only to find that McFadden had cleared out and had been gone for at least a week. That was the last time he heard from him."_

"_Here's where it get's interesting my fine furry friends." Garcia tells them while enlarging the picture in front of her._

"_When I was doing a search on Michael McFadden, to see if there was anything that I may have missed on him from 1977 up until he came into the US in 2000. Unfortunately, I came with zilch in my initial search." Garcia tells them as she pulls up their respective emails._

"So he just disappears?" Morgan asks perplexed.

"_Something like that. No criminal record, no report of death, taxes, nothing at all. It's as if he disappeared for twenty-one years or so I thought." Garcia says as she attaches the photo into it. " So I moved on and started doing a search on Lucas Flanagan to see if I can dig up some dirt on his that search, this picture popped up from a benefit gala that the Flanagan's were hosting on Valentine's day, 1979." The analyst hits send on the emails. "I have sent the pictures to your phones and I suggest that you look carefully in the background for Waldo."_

A few seconds later, the media liaison hears a ping coming from her black Iphone. She pulls up the email from Garcia and taps on the picture. Her eyes widen in surprise at the colored picture of three smiling men in nice tuxedos. While a tall, red headed man lurks in the background,standing behind Doyle, looking down and purposefully avoiding the camera's gaze. The older man and a lanky, twenty-something brunette, who looked smaller than Reid, had their arms around each other. The blond man standing next to him, who looked to be in his mid-twenties to early thirties, stood between them with a hesitant smile on his face and a full head of hair that nearly covered his eyes. But what caught the media liaison's attention was the sparkling, familiar, cold blue eyes of the stoic blond.

She twists the phone towards Morgan and shows him the photo. He then takes the phone in his hands to make sure that he is seeing this correctly.

"Doyle, the Flanagans and McFadden." Morgan said as he hands the phone back to JJ. "So they all knew each other. Were they all IRA?"

"_Yes my chocolate Tony Stark." Garcia confirms for him. " Lucas Flanagan was one of the only businessman around the Dublin area, who openly and unabashedly supported Doyle's group, in spite of their suspicious activities. The Government of Ireland were even about to launch an investigation on them about about their possible terrorist activities. And Flagcon for their reported financial support of Doyle's group."_

"Did anything come from that investigation?" Morgan asked.

"_No." Garcia said. " The group disbanded in June of 1980 and Doyle 'retires'." Garcia says with air quotes. "Duncan and Gerald also distanced Flagcon away from Doyle, claiming that their father supported the IRA ideals that he espoused, but did not condone the violence that his group allegedly caused. Had he known, he would have spoken out against him sooner." _

" I get why Flanagan was at the gala, but why was McFadden there?"JJ asks as she looks down at the photo.

"_According to the article caption, McFadden was recently promoted to head of Doyle's security detail." Garcia answers for her. "He started out as Ian's administrative assistant."_

"Or gopher." Morgan mutters.

"_Gopher." Garcia repeats. "Administrative assistant sounded nicer though."_

"Did that security detail happen to involve McFadden running special errands for him, by any chance?" JJ asks, while already knowing the answer to her question.

"_Can't tell you that for sure love." Garcia replies. "But there was mention of a man matching McFadden's description, in Interpol's notes on Doyle, who was responsible for about fifty disappearances and a couple of dozen unsolved referred to him as the 'enforcer' and mentioned him hundreds of times within the ten years that Interpol had been monitoring him." _

"_After June 2000 though, Doyle and his associates made little to no mention of this enforcer again. Interpol thought that he was dead at the time"Garcia finishes. _

" _But luckily for us and this investigation, it just so happened to be around the time that a McKenzie Michaelson, who fit all of McFadden's physical attributes except he's now balding with a beer belly, is admitted to Boston General for cardiac arrest and has to have an emergency double bypass."_

"That must have been expensive." Morgan said. "Can you tell us who picked the tab for his surgery and room expenses?"

" _According to the hospital, it was an anonymous donor." Garcia tells him. "But the doctor did say that a man came in and visited McKenzie every day. He even offered to make sure that McFadden got the best aftercare when he was released." _

"Makes sense." JJ said. "Family is important to Doyle and Michael had been working for him for twenty-one years. It wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility that he would take care of him. Is there anything else on McKenzie after he left the hospital?"

"_No. After that visit, McKenzie Michaelson is no more." Garcia tells her while pulling up McFadden's citizenship papers. "But Michael McFadden magically reappears and applies for a US citizenship six months later. He also applies for Virginia business and food licenses as well."_

"McFadden has a heart attack and retires." Morgan starts off, looking pensively at the blond agent before him.

"The next year he opens up McFadden's place in DC." JJ finishes bitterly for him. "Living on his severance package from Doyle as a own personal happy ending, at least until a couple of days ago."

"_Seems like it dear." Garcia says. "I'll try to see if I could find anymore aliases that McFadden could have used, including anyone matching his description and get back to you on that."_

"You're a lifesaver, baby girl." Morgan says smiling.

"_You know it. I will catch up with you lovely people later on and hopefully we'll know more about our other twenty-three dearly departed victims and how they got sucked in worst deal with the devil." Garcia tells them, adjusting her headset a little. "Garcia out!"_

The other end of the line goes dead and the two agents sit in silence, getting lost in their thoughts. Doyle had been right here, under their noses and other places, without being detected by TSA or the other federal agencies that had been looking for him. Now nearly three years after their search began, he manages to discreetly eliminate twenty-three people from his inner circle, yet publicly kill the two people, who seemed to be closest to him?

For Morgan, something about this didn't seem to make sense for someone reason.

JJ on the other hand, noticed the inconsistencies, but at this point did not care about them. If she were being honest, she hadn't really cared about their two victim's demises or how their connection with Doyle. As far as she was concerned, they had sealed their own fates he moment they decided to work for the former IRA captain. If their deaths would lead them to finally catching the arms dealer, then so be it. Getting justice for Emily and all of the other fallen members of the JTF-12 and their families was all that mattered to the media liaison now. He was guilty of killing Emily and her former team. Even if they could not link him in for these twenty-five other victims, at least they could get Doyle was still going to get the death penalty for the others.

"Still think this isn't a BAU case ?" JJ asks with a cocky grin, breaking the silence.

Morgan away from his desk and up at her with a half smile on his brown lips. "Okay, so maybe you may have been right in wanting to take this case."

"Of course I was." JJ said as she leans back into the chair, reveling in her minor victory over Morgan.

Getting back to business, Morgan scoots up in his chair and rests his hands on top of the desk.

"JJ, go and get the rest of the information on McFadden and Flanagan from Garcia as soon as we're done here and bring it into the conference room." Morgan orders the liaison. " We'll take this case, but I'm only going to send Rossi and Blake to New Orleans to meet up with Will. I also want them to see if there is anyway that the coroner can send McFadden's body to Quantico's medical examiner. Odds are, he was killed here in DC and the unsub may have transported the body down there."

"You and I should also interview anyone that Michael may have been in contact with, who saw him the night he died." JJ suggests. "The press is going to have a field day with this, especially when they find out that McFadden's murder is linked to Flanagan."

JJ starts to rise from the chair and grabs the file off of Morgan's desk, preparing to take her leave.

"You do realize that we have to come clean with the team, about our investigation on Doyle." Morgan asks suddenly, causing JJ's movements to come to a halt. "If we take on this case, we're not going to be bale to keep them in the dark about it for too long, before they figure it out for themselves."

Blue eyes stare at the dark agent in exhaustion before gracefully plopping back down in the chair. She briefly stares down at the file in her hands and sighs.

"If that's what you and Garcia want to do, Derek, then I'll support your decisions." JJ says diplomatically.

The dark agent sees through the media liaison's neutral expression and doesn't believe that she is as at ease about this decision as she may want to appear to be. He had a feeling that JJ still had reservations about disclosing their case to the rest of the hard as the three of them may have tried to keep this investigation a secret, they knew that the day would come when they would have to tell the team about it. None of them figured that they would find him this soon and under these circumstances.

Morgan takes a few seconds to carefully compose his next statement. Knowing JJ as well as he did, she was not going to take his next statement well.

"We also have to them about Declan." Morgan said cautiously. "That we know where he is and about the surveillances we have been running on him for the last six months. That as far as we can tell, he's safe with Louise and Tom. He has the life that Emily always wanted for him."

JJ stares at him skeptically, her eyes glaring at him in defiance and shoulders tensing at the suggestion. Even though Declan was not her son, the media liaison still felt her maternal instincts kick in and the need to protect the thirteen year old boy began to overwhelm her.

"Is that really necessary, Derek?" JJ asks disbelievingly. "Wouldn't we be putting Declan's safety in jeopardy if we do?"

"I understand your concern JJ, but we put his safety in danger the day we found his and Louise's fake ids in the evidence bag for Fagan six months ago." Morgan reasons with her. He watches her shoulders begin to slump at his counterpoint.

"Besides, if Doyle is our unsub and he is killing off his old associates as a way to start over and leave the country for good, then his endgame is going to be recovering Declan. The reason he killed Emily and her old team before was to avenge Declan. Now that he knows that he's alive, wouldn't it make sense that this is a part his ultimate endgame would be to find the boy and take him with him?"

JJ sighs in defeat and crosses her arms.

"Fine, we'll tell them about Declan. But you better be damn sure that the team will be ready to protect him if worse comes to worse, Derek." the media liaison said sternly. "That boy has been traumatized enough in his life already. We don't need to rush in and turn his life upside down anymore than it already has been."

Morgan leans forward and his brown eyes and his eyebrows are scrunched. "I promise, on my father's grave, that _no _harm will come to Declan, Louise or Tom. And that this team will go above and beyond to make sure that bastard will not get anywhere near him. You have my word as your friend."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Morgan." JJ says doubtfully, looking away from the dark agent.

Morgan sees a sadness in her eyes and he does the only thing that he can think of at the moment to put the media liaison at ease. He places his hand on top of JJ's and soothingly rubs the back of it with his thumb. The blond looks up and smiles softly at him for the gesture.

"Declan will be fine, Jayje. You don't have to worry about him." Morgan says gently, as he moves his hand away.

"The only thing you need to worry about is presenting this case to the others and what you're going to say to the media when word of McFadden's death hits the twenty-four hour news circuit." he said good naturedly, trying to lighten up the mood in the room a bit.

His plan works and he manages to get a couple of chuckles out of the media liaison.

"Oh yeah, that's going to be _real_ hard for me. Not like I haven't done this a hundred times over in the last nine years." JJ said sarcastically. "But, I'm glad I'm not the one who has to tell Hotch about our unsanctioned overtime being used to investigate Doyle. That's one call I'm grateful that I don't have to field."

The profiler's raises his eyebrows and scrunches his face in pain, thinking about his call to Hotch. The section chief, after Emily's death, gathered the team in the conference room and told them that her case would be handed off to another unit in the BAU. That they were not to interfere or investigate Doyle anymore, since they were so close to the case. He was not going to be happy at the fact that they have been disobeying him since he made that announcement. But at the same time, Hotch had to understand that the three of them were not going to sit around and hope that another team had better luck with Doyle than they had. Their boss hadn't done that with Foyet, so there is no way he could have expected them to do that with Emily.

"Yeah, lucky you." Morgan mutters with a slight grin. "Speaking of which, I might as well get that call over with. According to his itinerary, they should have been done for the day. He should have some free time to talk before he goes to bed. Give me twenty minutes and we'll brief the rest of the team on the New Orleans case."

"Will do. Good luck with Hotch." JJ says as she rises from the leather chair.

"Thanks princess." Morgan said warmly. "I am definitely going to need all I can get."

JJ smiles and laughs as she steps away from Morgan's desk. She makes it over the oakwood door and opens it up.

"Jayje!" Morgan calls out, causing her to turn around.

"Yeah?" JJ asks with her back facing the door.

"Everything's going work out fine." he assures her with one last pep talk before the real work began. "We're going to catch that son of bitch. And this time, he's not going to get away."

JJ doesn't answer him, instead she nods in reply as she steps completely out of his office. She doesn't share his confidence in a positive outcome for this case. Then again, the media liaison convinced that Morgan doesn't genuinely believe in a happy outcome for this case either.

As she makes her way down the hall, the media liaison pushes her doubts to the back of her mind, for the moment, and focuses on the task at hand. She still has a briefing to prepare, figure out how to gently break the news of their Doyle investigation to the rest of the team and make another visit to Garcia. All while doing the best that she can to not think about the vein that is going to pop out of Hotch's head as Morgan delivers the good news.

The blond decided to make a detour to the coffee pot before she would shut herself away in her office for the next twenty minutes. The energy shots that Will suggested she take were starting to run their course. JJ had a feeling that for the morning that she was about to have, she would need all of the crappy coffee that the pot could spare.

* * *

**10:50 am**

**Downtown DC**

The sleek, black sixty-seven Mustang, sat about one hundred feet away from the hustle and bustle of the popular outdoor cafe of the Tea Room. Most of the black patio tables underneath the tiny canopy were taken, with the exception of the two tables closest by the door. Most of the customers the figure had observed coming in and out of the popular eatery, consisted of young and old professionals who were looking for a bite to eat before the beginning of their early work day. They were the ones who only stayed for a ten to twenty minutes at most, before gathering their brief cases and making their exit.

The figure remembers being exactly like those professionals in the not so distant past. Oblivious to the world around them during the weekday, with only focused on feeding and refueling themselves with enough caffeine to get through the hellish morning awaiting them at the office. They could only remember one time when they actually took the time to sit at the patio table, eat without having anywhere to go and it was nice. After they were done, the figure regretted not doing it more often. They promised themselves that they would try to make time and do it more often. Unfortunately, they never got the chance. The pieces of their old life had started to dismantle by then.

There was also the occasional college student who set up camp out at one of the tables,with their laptop on the table top and earbuds in ear. They were probably cramming away on a last minute assignment or the exam they would have to take the next day. And you had your group of students who would sit and gossip with their friends. Or a group of boys who subtly and unsuccessfully made a pass at their serving waitress, who would politely shot them the last three hours, the figure has sat in this car, playing the quiet observer and watched life go on at the corner coffee shop, waiting for their next target.

In a couple of minutes, the subject will come in from the left side of the sidewalk from the direction of his building, which was only six blocks away from the shop. The cafe was a known stomping ground for many FBI agents in the morning before they make their morning commute to Quantico. The subject always made sure to come a few minutes after ten-thirty, when the influx of agents finally died off.

He would wear a grey hooded sweatshirt with his jeans on cloudy days and he wouldn't show up at all if the weather were bad. On days like today though, the subject would most likely be wearing a neutral colored, long sleeve shirt to cover up his easily recognizable tattoo. He will go into the shop and spend about five minutes in there, ordering a plain black coffee and grabbing a copy of the local paper on his way out.

He'll come back outside, sit at the second table closest to the door and spend the next fifteen minutes reading the paper before the barista shows up at his table to deliver his order. He'll give her his most charming, unassuming grin and subtly flirt with the barista, who was young enough to be his daughter. He'll thank her for the service and tip her very generously, with his hand lingering a little too long on her arm. The subject then will spend thirty minutes reading through the paper from front cover to back and making a point to keep to himself. Occasionally, he'll look around his shoulder without being too obvious about it and most people will write his behavior off as people watching.

When he's done, the subject will leave and take his cup with him as a safety precaution. He will look over his shoulder one more time, before leaving the cafe in the opposite direction of which he came and catch the nearby bus before it took off. Sometimes, he will come back and grab a baked good later on in the day to take back with him to his apartment. He never came to the cafe on Sundays, mostly because he spent most of the day at mass with McFadden and have a big early dinner at his place. At least they used to do.

Over a year ago, the figure had found themselves in DC, once again. It was a few days before they had to go to New Orleans for Flanagan and they had finally settled down in the extended stay that their handler had them staying in. Just as the figure prepared to order dinner, they received a call from their handler telling them that a rookie agent had seen a man who fit Ian Doyle's description and reported it to their superior officer. The officer then contacts their handler, who tells them about Doyle coming here every morning. It hadn't taken long for the figure to discover that Doyle's apartment was nearby.

Every morning, if they happened to be in town, the dark figure would place a microphone in the napkin dispenser of Doyle's usual table and listens in on his every word. They would sit with the hearing device in the seat and place it in a position where it can't be seen if someone were to look inside of the car. As soon as he appeared, the figure would place the headphones on and listen.

So far, the dark figure had nothing on the dealer that would tell them anything of what his next moves were. Some days, Doyle would quietly grumble to himself something in either the sports page or a blurb in the crime beat. Other times he would sit at his table for hours not muttering a word. On those days, the dark figure wished they had something to do to fill those silences.

Based on the figure's observation of the subject, Ian seemed to be accustomed to his new, slower paced lifestyle. The dealer seemed to be confidant that he will never be caught. It was as if he were just waiting for the FBI to give up and move on to the next biggest and baddest international or domestic terrorist to pursue. All while he sat back and peacefully lived out his new thought made the dark figure's blood boil.

Doyle deserves a lot of things, most of which the figure planned to inflict onto him when the time came. But what he didn't deserve was a normal life or any form of peace or happiness. Not when he had taken that away from the countless innocent people and their loved ones over the years. If anything, he deserved every bit of the hell that he inflicted on other people and so much more.

Whenever he would shamelessly flirt with the baristas, the figure desperately wanted to rush out of the car and warn the girls of what he truly was and protect them from being sucked in by his charm. They then wanted to drag him into the alleyway end this right there and then.

But they knew that their handler would never go for it and have more than a few words to say to them about it. He would go into a long diatribe about duty and obligation, before he ended his speech with a 'this'll be over soon enough'. As he always did when he felt like the figure was losing control

Somewhere in the last few years, the once soothing reassurances of 'soon' turned into sour reminders of 'why not now'. The figure was at the end of their rope and they would let their handler know it the next time they were scheduled to meet.

The figure's thoughts are interrupted when the six foot frame of Ian Doyle appears around the corner out of their peripheral vision, as scheduled, at the Tea Room. They notice the former arms dealer let his stubble on his face grow into a short, grey beard since they had last seen him three months ago.

To the figure's surprise, Doyle had deviated from his daily routine. He was wearing a black short sleeve shirt instead of his usual long sleeve one. His hands were shoved deeply down in his jean pockets. He had dark circles around his eyes and his lips were pursed tightly together in a thin line. Every other step the arms dealer took, he made sure to look over and around his shoulders. It was the first time the figure had seen him do that in all the time they've been monitoring him. He appeared to be tense and lacked the confidant and relaxed arrogance that he would usually exuded. When he got to the door, Ian hadn't even taken the time to stop and flirt with the older barista, who was heading inside with the round empty tray, like he usually would have. Doyle hadn't even bothered to open the door for her, pretending to be a gentleman. He acted as if the brunette nor anybody else weren't even there. Based on his behavior, it seems as if something has gotten Doyle spooked. The figure had hoped that it was because of their little message in the form of McFadden.

By now word must have somehow spread back to Doyle about McFadden's sudden disappearance. It won't be long before his old friend's death is confirmed, whether through word of mouth or the news. The figure doubts that there is anyone left alive that Doyle truly trusts anymore, so he wouldn't hear the news from them. The New Orleans PD will probably hold a press conference in a couple of hours about the body found in the Flanagan's place. It probably has the city shaken up enough that they will want to clear the air as soon as possible. He'll probably hear the news on the lunchtime news broadcast at the earliest. Either way, this may be the thing that finally lures the former arms dealer out of his self imposed exile and force him to retaliate. Whenever Doyle's hand is forced, especially if the something is out of his control, he gets sloppy in his attempts to regain that control back. By then, the figure hopes that their handler will finally be ready for them to strike him before he has a chance to regain his composure.

The figure reaches over to the listening device sitting in leather seat and sits it up where the satellite circle is leaning against the car door's armrest. They then place the headphones over their dark hair just as Doyle is exiting the cafe. Instead of sitting facing the door, the figure notes that he has moved over to the opposite side.

Doyle doesn't touch his coffee for the first ten minutes he's there. He sits there and taps lightly on the black lid of the cup. He watches the sidewalk with a nervous energy and his tapping becomes faster. Whenever he doesn't see what he is looking for, he will look down at his left wrist and pick his tattoo. The figure hears him mumble and grunt under his breath as he looks over there again. The arms dealer looked ready to jump out of his own skin.

The figure's attention is peaked when a short, blond haired man comes from the right side of the cafe, walks behind Doyle and grabs him by the arms dealer turns his head around and looks up, jumping briefly in his seat. He relaxes his shoulders and smiles briefly, recognizing the man who approached him. He pats the man on the forearm and motions for him to sit down. The figure reaches down and turns the volume up on the device.

" _Ian." _the mysterious man greets quietly_. "Long time, no see."_

"_Don't play games with me, Gerace. Not today." _Ian said pointedly as his Irish accent becomes thicker and more pronounced. _"Have you found 'em yet?"_

The figure reaches down on the floor and retrieves a fine leather briefcase. They reach into the case and pulls out a big stack of manilla folders. They set it on the seat, next to the device and starts flipping through the alphabetically ordered tabs.

"_You know I have, Ian." _Gerace said with a wicked grin. _"Otherwise why would I agree to speak with you if I hadn't. I learned to never piss you off twenty years ago, remember?"_

When the figure gets to the 'G' tabs, their gloved hand finds the folder labeled 'Gerace'. They flip the folder open to find the passport photo of the droopy faced, blond haired man. He has a deep scar on the left side of his face, starting from the corner of his mouth all the way to the middle of his crooked nose's bridge.

They look over to the brief information that her handler was able to gather. Richard Gerace is a lower level gun runner from Carlow, Ireland, who moved to Dublin when he was eighteen. Gerace then tired to enlist in the Army of Ireland. He was subsequently kicked out for a bar fight that he had gotten into with another solider over a girl. He got into weapons dealing shortly after. The part that seemed to be the most interesting was Gerace's history with the former arms dealer. According to Gerace's sheet, he and Doyle were not as chummy as they seemed to be now. In fact, the two men had gotten into their fair share of scuffles that were quickly broken up by the cops. During one of their lasts fights, Doyle permanently reminded Gerace that he shouldn't mess with him through the scar that currently sits on his face. Since then, Gerace has ceased to be a problem for Doyle.

Closing the file the figure listens in closely, wondering why the two men were acting like long lost friends now and what Doyle was having Gerace do for him?

"_You'll never let me forget it." _Ian said disinterestedly. The figure notices that Doyle's jaw is twitching a little and he looks as if his patience has run thin with the blond man. _"Now tell me where my boy is."_

"_Relax." _Gerace assures him, folding his hands together on the table. _"Your boy is in a nice, quiet, little suburb in Ruston, VA. Fifteen minutes away from ere. Louise is with 'em too. They go by the names Kearns now."_

Ian nods and relaxes his shoulders considerably while fighting the urge to smile. _"Shoulda remembered that Emily always liked cul-de-sacs. Tell me what you know bout Declan."_

The figure flinches a little at the mention of the now teenager's name. They thought that there would be no way that Doyle would be able to find him. The agent who stowed Declan and his nanny away made sure to have several identities available to them so that the arms dealer couldn't possibly come after them. How in the world did that coward Gerace find them?

"_He's as smart as a whip. Won top prize at his school's science fair three years in a row. Wherever he got that, it certainly wasn't from you or his mother." _Gerace laughs but when he sees Doyle's pointed glare, he stops. _" He's also strong. Plays lacrosse and soccer for his hoity toity private school. The boy's practically a legend at that school, everybody loves him."_

"_It's hard not to fall in love with em." _ Ian said fondly. He looks down at the table for a moment before looking up again. _"Anything else?"_

"_Yeah. And you're not going to like it." _Gerace said as he began to pick his nails. _" This Em'ily woman certainly knew what she was doin. She made sure that the only people allowed to take the boy away from campus were her and his guardians; Louise and Tom Kearns. He's apparently Declan's surrogate father."_

"_Why is this a problem again? Louise will go anywhere I ask er to." _Doyle said defiantly.

"_She's not the problem I'm talkin about. This Tom fella is an FBI agent with counter terrorism. He's one of the agents assigned to hunt you down Ian and his team is pretty close to finding you. " _

"_What a real problem that one'll be." _Ian said sarcastically.

"_I'm serious Doyle." _Gerace counters impatiently. He looks around the cafe before leaning closely in Doyle's direction.

"_Two weeks before he bit it, Flanagan had a meetin with told em that IRS and a coupla other agencies were building a case against him . Duncan was gonna do some serious time in the federal pen, unless he gave you up." _He quietly whispers. Doyle picks up his cup and puts it to his lips, but he narrows his eyes slightly at his company. _"Kearns was more than confident that Duncan would talk."_

Doyle sets his cup down and gives him a sideways grin. _"Guess Agent Kearns doesn't have case then. Remind me to find out the son of bitch who killed him and send him a little somethin for his trouble."_

The figure gripped the device tightly, using every ounce of strength within them not to kill Gerace and Doyle in that cafe full of people.

"_After Flanagan died, he stopped going overseas and has decided to take a leave of absence. He's been workin on your case, out of their home everyday fer the last nine months." _Gerace finishes.

"_That shouldn't stop you and yer men from getting him out of the house, should it?" _Doyle asks him curiously. _"If they're as good as you keep going on about, then this job should be easy."_

"_It will be." _Gerace said defensively. _"You'll have yer little sunspot by the time that we agreed upon next week."_

"_Good." _Ian said, taking another drink of his coffee and looks away from the man in front of him. When he stares back, he feels Gerace thumping his knee on the table. _"Is there anything else yer lookin to discuss. Don't tell me yer a masochist and you want another scar to match the one you got?"_

Gerace puts both of his hand on the table and looks away from Doyle as the arms dealer chuckles at his own joke. He holds one hand and opens it in front of him. Doyle raises a grey eyebrow at his former enemy.

"_My fee." _Gerace stutters nervously. _" For the surveillance and everything. You said that you'd pay me when I found em."_

"_Of course I did." _Ian sighs. He reaches into his left jean pocket and pulls out a small, gold key with a piece of notebook paper wrapped around it. _" The first half of the money is in a safety deposit box at the Three Regions in Georgetown. I counted it for you and it's all there. You'll get the other half in a briefcase when Declan and I are safely on your man's plan on Wednesday." _

Gerace takes the key and shakily puts in his pocket as a big, bright smile adorns his droopy face. He watches as Doyle gets up and pushes his chair back into the table.

"_Gerace. If Kearns or Louise become problems, I except you and your guys to take care of em." _Doyle said in parting. Gerace's brown eyes widen a little as he picks up on Doyle's implication.

"_I thought she was family?" _Gerace asks skeptically.

"_She made her choice when she went along with Emily. She's not family anymore." _Ian says darkly. _"Besides, a little loss will be good for Declan. It'll make him a stronger man for it."_

Doyle looks down at Gerace one last time, before turning his back on him and walking away. When Doyle reaches the sidewalk, Gerace scowls at his retreating figure. He takes his right hand and lightly touches the scar.

The figure carefully sets the listening device down on the leather seat and places the folders down on the floor. The thought of Doyle getting out of here with Declan in tow, made the figure sick o their stomach. They looked down at the finely scrawled list sitting on the armrest. When they were initially coming up with this list with their handler, they hadn't considered Gerace a potential threat at all. They figured his scar from Doyle would keep him as far away from the arm's dealer as humanly possible. They hadn't even entertained the thought that he would ever team up with Doyle. Then again, this could be Gerace's a coward so the fact that he would team up with the man who gave him his scar is not completely out of character.

After listening in on that conversation with Doyle though, the figure considered changing their minds. The look at the two names on the list after Flanagan- Lachlan McDermott and Chloe Donaghy. The figure's instructions were to locate and kill the both of them before they touched Gerace. If the runner actually succeed in kidnapping Declan, then McDermott and Donaghy would just have to wait.

As they take the headphones off and prepare to leave, Gerace's phone starts ringing. He answers it and greets whoever is on the line. The figure decides that it wouldn't hurt to listen to what the runner was saying.

"_You were right. Doyle bought it." _Gerace said enthusiastically. _"Just like you said he would."_

The figure looks over at Gerace surprised. The runner held the phone up to his ear and the figure couldn't hear the person on the other end.

" _He said he wanted Declan by Wednesday of next week. He wants the plane ready and the boy on it when he gets there."_

There is a bit of a lull in the conversation and the figure tries to turn up the volume on the device when a crowd of kids walk by the table and bump the shaker slightly.

"_We'll meet up on Tuesday night at your club, McDermott?" _ Gerace asks anxiously, standing up from his chair. _"You'll have my money by then? Triple what Doyle's offering, yeah?"_

The figure's spying comes to an abrupt halt when the black burner iphone starts buzzing. They look over to the other side of the street to find that Gerace was away from the table and out of range. They snatch the headphones off of their ears and toss them on the floor. It was all starting to make sense for the dark figure. Gerace didn't have the guts to screw over Doyle by himself, so he pretends to work with him while working for McDermott behind his back. If either one of them destroys the other or they both destroy themselves, then it's a win for Gerace either way. Maybe the runner wasn't as dumb as the figure initially thought he was.

They pull out the buzzing phone and he name 'Cruz' pops up along with a little envelope. They open the envelope and he instructs the figure to meet him at his place tonight at seven and how important it was that they be there. The figure texts him back saying that they will be there before tossing the phone on the seat.

They look over at the cafe and Gerace was nowhere to be found. The figure then starts the engine of the car and listens to the engine purr for a moment.

Whatever McDermott and Gerace had planned for Doyle, the figure knew that it probably wouldn't be good for the arms dealer. They could care less about what happens to Doyle, whether he is killed by them or the figure does it themselves. But they knew that Declan would be in the middle of it all. God knows what they will do to the teenager out of revenge because of his father. But the dark figure knew that the best thing for Declan would be for them to get to his potential captors first, with or without permission from their handler.

As the figure pulls out of the lot and into the city streets, making their way to Ruston, the figure thinks that their journey home is going to take longer than they initially expected. The blond and her little boy would have to stay in their dreams for just a little bit longer.

* * *

**A/N: Hi guys. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thanks so much for the reviews, follows and favorites, they were really sweet. I'm glad you're all enjoying this one. Sorry for the delay, my brother recently graduated high school and it's been a madhouse celebrating that. I also had a little bit of trouble writing this one. **

**Once again, reviews and comments are all appreciated. **


	4. Last Minute Meetings

When JJ gets to the door of the conference room two hours later, with seven light brown and thick FBI folders in her stops for a second and takes a peak in the window at the whole team gathered around the big, brown conference table. Reid sat in the back talking animatedly about something with Blake. While Rossi sat comfortably in the chair with a finger on his chin, scrolling through his black Iphone. Morgan and Garcia sat in the front side by side, talking quietly to one another and with soft smiles on their faces. The other blond slaps Morgan lightly on the shoulder while the dark agent leans back and laughs at her. Judging by the carefree expressions on their faces, they weren't as nervous about this briefing as she had been. Then again, they weren't the ones to have to give it neither.

She was tempted to go back into her office, hide them there from the rest of the team and give them another case to work. The only problem with that plan is that the three of them had already agreed that they would tell everyone today. Garcia and Morgan are going to be expecting her to present the case as is. There was no going back from their decision now, even if the blond was having second thoughts about it.

After her meeting with Morgan, JJ rushed to Garcia's office immediately. The media liaison spent the next twenty minutes recapping her conversation with Morgan and what they were planning to tell the team. Garcia agreed with it being time to tell the team, but like herself, the technical analyst was hesitant to tell them about Declan. She was just as concerned about his safety as she had been. But they both realized that they trust the team and their ability to protect the teenager if it came to that. When they were done talking, Garcia offered to wait for her while the files printed. But JJ declined her friend's offer and shooed her away. The media liaison needed a moment to be alone before she briefed the case to the team.

A part of her was relieved that the three of them wouldn't be keeping this a secret anymore. The media liaison had enough secrets as it is and the fact that she didn't have to hide their search for Doyle anymore, it felt like a weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. As relieved as she is, JJ was also scared of the way that this investigation could play out. She had no idea why Doyle would kill all of his old accomplices before he kidnapped Declan. What if he decided to come after the BAU and everyone that they love as a part of his endgame? What if he decided to come after Henry, what would she do then?

JJ takes a deep breath, trying not to think of the worst just yet. It was a habit that she picked up on during her time with the State Department. You plan for the worst possible scenario while hoping that it doesn't come to pass. After all the things that she had been exposed to and experienced there, the media liaison could understand why they had to think that way. Even though it had been two years since her last assignment there, she still found herself reverting back to that thought process at times.

JJ grabs the door knob and pushes the door open. Once she was inside, the media liaison closes the door and steps inside of the room.

The conversations in the room come to a sudden halt and the gazes of the other profilers landed on her. As she made her way around the table, the media liaison took note of all of her colleague's expressions as she passed by them. Reid and Blake stared at her with worry dancing through their eyes. The scraggly haired doctor affectionately squeezed her hand as she set the folder down in front of him and she gave him a soft smile in return. He waited until she was near Rossi before he turns to the file in front of him and dives right in.

Rossi, being Rossi, stashes his phone in the inside of his black jacket pocket and scoots closer to the table. He tips his salt and peppered head towards her and gives her a polite smile as she walks away from him. Morgan and Garcia give her supportive glances as she sets the files in front of them. The dark agent reaches over and hands the remote for the monitor hands it over to her. He mouths good luck and she shakes her head at him, while silently thinking that she was definitely going to need it.

JJ steps toward her left side a little and presses the power button, pulling up the picture of a tied up Duncan had managed to catch Will before he left for the day and the detective managed to fax the photos of the scene to her.

On the left side, there was a picture of Flanagan taken in 2011,in a nice, plain black suit with a white and dark blue stripped tie. His jet black hair with streaks of grey on the side, was neatly combed back and his full lips grinning widely into the camera.

"Our victim's name is Duncan Flanagan." JJ said as she tapped a button on the remote, making the other crime scene photos appear. "He was fifty-six years old and the former CEO of a fortune five hundred, importing and exporting company by the name of Flagcon, based out of was in charge of their New Orleans and Baltimore bases of operations. He also owned the small, yet very successful ale company called Flanagan's Wake."

JJ presses the forward button on the remote and brings up the pictures from the crime scene. Flanagan's eyes were closed and his mouth was gagged with a white cloth. His hands were tied behind the chair with a climbing rope and is feet were bound together as well. There was no blood spatter to be found on any of the walls or his desk. From where everyone was sitting, with the exception of the hole in the middle of his forehead, you could barely tell where the other two bullet wounds were.

This was the first time that the media liaison had seen the photos and she had to admit, she could see why Will and the rest of his detectives were having a hard time solving this case. The crime scene appeared too clean and most of the stuff that had been on the table, the blond could tell had not been moved. Unlike the other unsubs they had faced in the past, this unsub had made it a point not to leave any trace evidence behind. Doyle had apparently gotten a lot smarter than he had been the last time the team faced off with him.

JJ pauses for a moment and looks in the direction of Morgan and Garcia. The technical analyst's blue eyes gives her an encouraging look and a soft smile. The media liaison quickly glances away from her and back to the screen.

"On the morning of July 13th, 2013, his wife, Shelly Flanagan, noticed that Duncan hadn't come to bed the night before." JJ continues on, taking a couple of steps back. "It wasn't unusual for him to spend the night in his basement. She said that he did it frequently and would come up the next morning. She goes down into their basement and hears his music on from the night before. Mrs. Flanagan finds him like this."

"The medical examiner in New Orleans believes that he was killed the night before and by the time the crime scene unit got there, he was already in rigamortis." JJ finishes as she turns to face the rest of the team. "He was shot three times. Once in the right side of his abdomen and his right thigh."

JJ pulls up a head shot of Flanagan's head, which was tilted a little to the right side. "The last shot was the one to his temple. There were no shell casings left behind and the bullets were gone as well."

For a few minutes, the room is silent as the other profilers go over the evidence. JJ stood on the tip toes of her black boots and fiddled with the remote as she waits for the team to respond.

"It says here that his wife and sixteen year old daughter were there the night of the murder." Blake said as she looks up from the file and to JJ. " Did they hear the gunshots from upstairs?"

"No." JJ answers. "According to , they had their basement soundproofed before they moved into the house. When he was working, Duncan would use the basement as his office when he worked from home and had a tendency to play loud music. The medical examiner also thinks that this unsub used a pillow as a silencer. They found some fragments of feather residue on the back of his head."

"There's more, unfortunately." the blond continues on. "The neighbors told Will and his partner that they hadn't heard or seen anyone enter or exit the house outside of Duncan, Shelly and their sixteen year old daughter Ellie. One neighbor did hear a car leave the neighborhood at around ten, but they just assumed that it was someone passing through. The unsub did leave one piece of evidence behind though."

The media liaison presses the forward button again, bringing up the two pictures of the seared branding of a four leaf clover. In one of the photos, the one JJ had not seen yet, had Flanagan's wrist facing towards the camera."

"It appears that the unsub may have branded Flanagan post mortem."

JJ notices out of the corner of her eye, the young doctor scoot his chair farther into the desk. She thinks that she sees a glimmer of recognition in his eyes. He turns his head in her direction with a questioning gaze and he looks he is about to ask her something.

Fortunately before the scrawny young doctor has a chance to mention the clover to the other profilers, JJ presses the button and brings up a picture of grinning Michael McFadden. He was standing next to a balding man in a grey suit and glasses, shaking hands with McFadden, who nearly had his hand in a vice grip. Dated in October of last year, when McFadden signed a deal to franchise his restaurant. JJ remembers reading about it in the Washington Post. Had he not been killed, within the next month or so McFadden would have acquired nearly eighty-five million dollars to create about one hundred and eighty different franchises spread throughout the country.

"Michael McFadden is our next victim." the media liaison informs them. " He was fifty-eight years old. Owner of McFadden's place since 2001. It's an authentic Irish pub located in downtown Georgetown"

"That's the pub that my husband likes to go to whenever he's in town." Blake said as she crossed her right leg over her left. "He says that they have the best ale, corn beef and hash he's ever tasted outside of Belfast."

"Eh, it's alright." Rossi adds. "He waited on me one time. He was okay with me, but I saw him harassing one of the waitresses there." Rossi turns away from Blake and towards JJ. " What happened to him?"

"The medical examiner's not sure yet." JJ said. "When I video chatted with Will this morning, since the Flanagan case was his, he told me that they were still processing his body. They found him dangling from the staircase railing in the Flanagan house this morning. The only thing the medical examiner could tell them was that he had been dead for about a day or so. The realtor found McFadden up there as they were setting up an open house for the Flanagan's house. Shelly and her daughter moved out months ago."

The blond brings up the picture of the four leaf clover branding again. "The unsub branded him in the same way, post mortem as well. There was also no forensic evidence left behind at the crime scene and like Flanagan, the neighbors hadn't seen or heard anyone enter or exit the house outside of the realtor."

JJ pulls up a couple of comparison photos of the brandings of Flanagan and McFadden that Garcia had enhanced for her. The lines were more prominent now and the media liaison could tell that her and Morgan's earlier assessment of the brandings were correct.

"As Morgan and I were looking over these, we noticed that the unsub was a bit more aggressive in their branding of McFadden then they were with Flanagan."

"Their both applied professionally, in spite of the overkill on McFadden's wrist." Reid adds, pointing to the outline of the brand. He turns toward JJ's direction."Flanagan's markings appear to be more like a tattoo, while McFadden's resembles a scar. Whoever this unsub is, this isn't the first time that they've done this, isn't it?"

"No Spence, it's not." JJ answers, bringing up the list of the names of the other victims. "I had Garcia look into unsolved cases with this particular signature and we found nineteen in the US spread all over. It's stretched out from here to Los Angeles. There were also eight unsolved cases in Interpol's database."

Garcia turns in her chair to face the rest of the profilers and takes over for JJ.

"I talked to the different police departments for these cases and they said that they would have the files sent here as early as tomorrow morning. MPD says that they'll send an officer over with the files in a couple of hours." Garcia interrupts. "Interpol says that they'll send over the case files for the eight victims over there in about an hour so. The guy in charge of these cases said that they had little to no evidence, but that the murder of Charlotte Pierre, a painter living in Paris and Jack Dawson, a mechanic in Liverpool, were the two messiest cases out of the bunch. And the clovers were not as precise as the ones on the other victims. Charlotte's throat was slit and the police think that she was alive and choked to death for hours, as the unsub branded her. Jack Dawson was bludgeoned to death with a tire iron in his garage and the police found him underneath a car that he was working on in Bristol. The police never recovered the murder weapon and the branding appeared to be sloppy."

"Charlotte and Jack may have been the unsub's first victims." Reid adds. "They could have experimented with them before killing the others. Did the agent in charge of the Interpol cases say how the first two victims were killed?"

"No, they hadn't specified that." Garcia answers. " But they did say that if this unsub is the same one that killed their victims in Europe, that they would hand over jurisdiction to the BAU for the case, since we have the most causalities."

"Will also said that he would talk to his boss and officially get the go ahead to work the two killings in New Orleans." Garcia finishes.

There is a pause in the room as everyone takes a moment to let the evidence sink in. Reid occasionally looks over at JJ, as if he wanted to question the familiarity of the clover. He wanted an explanation for JJ's odd behavior and the fact that she looked unusually tense. Reid thinks that whatever the meaning behind this clover is causing that. Unfortunately for Reid, the blond seems to sense that he was trying to read her. And as usual, she controls her micro expressions and guarding herself, not allowing him to do that.

After a few seconds, he gives up on the media liaison telling him anything and turns his attention back to the clovers. The four leaves that were shaped almost in the form of a heart with the detachable stem. He knows that he's seen it before and he's hesitant to admit it out loud.

"This unsub could be a professional hit men." Blake suggests as she sits up straighter into her chair, breaking the silence."It would explain why there was no trace evidence left at either of the crime scenes."

"Based on what we've heard about the first two kills, it doesn't sound like a professional doing them." Reid states. "An amateur with some law enforcement background,maybe, whose gotten better at the killing part over the last two years. But not a professional. JJ, could you go back to the photo of Duncan Flanagan?"

"Sure." JJ said as she goes back to Duncan Flanagan's crime scene photo.

"Did the crime scene investigators move the body by any chance?" Reid asks turning to Garcia.

"As far as Will has told me, they hadn't moved anything when they were taking pictures of the scene. The body and chair is exactly the way found him." Garcia answers. "Why?"

"I'm not entirely sure because we would have to get the schematics and layouts to their house, but based on where the glimmer of light coming from the corner over there." Reid said as he pointed his finger in the direction of the light. " it looks like the unsub had Duncan's body facing towards the basement window. If the unsub were a professional killer, they probably would have placed his body in the same position he had been in the night before so they wouldn't draw attention to the body. It's as if the unsub wanted him displayed for the neighborhood to see."

"The kid's right." Rossi adds. " Most contract killers, even the rookies, wouldn't risk making that kind of mistake. If they've been doing this for a while, they're gonna be discreet about their killing and do their best not to draw any attention to themselves. Whoever this is, they're either not a professional or they're just reckless."

"Richard Kuklinski, also known as the 'Iceman' claimed to be a hit man for the DeCavalante crime family in New Jersey. From 1946 to 1986, he claims to have killed 250 men and he was known to freeze their bodies after he killed them so the police couldn't tell the time of death for his victims. His family had no idea that he was basically leading this double life until he was arrested. They assumed that he was a successful business man who worked erratic hours. Kuklinski was only caught after an undercover investigation." Reid notes as the rest of the team nods at his explanation.

Getting back to the matter at hand, Blake redirects the conversation to the victims.

"What I don't understand about their signature is what the purpose of branding the victims after death? Is the unsub asserting some kind of possession over their victims after the fact?"

"With Flanagan maybe. If we were working with the theory of a hit man, it could have been something that the killer was instructed to add." Reid says as he looks over at the two profilers and technical analyst, who have all been unusually quiet since the beginning of this debriefing. "But in the case of McFadden, I think there is something more to it."

The young doctor pauses for a moment and notices that the three people in question refused to look in his direction. Their visions seemed to be centered, even when he was the one speaking. They all seemed to be a bit distracted. He may not have been a people person, but he could tell when someone was avoiding

Morgan, noticing that Reid was looking at him, returns the mop topped doctor's gaze.

"With McFadden, there's a possibility that this unsub killed him out of revenge, based on the overkill on his branding. If Charlotte Pierre and Jack Dawson were their first two victims, the unsub obviously killed them in inexperienced. With Duncan Flanagan, it appears to be professional and clean. But for some reason, McFadden bothered the unsub to the point where they wanted him to suffer." Reid finishes, as he continues to eye the three agents suspiciously. "Is there anything else we should know about this case Jayje?"

The blond liaison glances at Reid and she's pretty sure he's either already figured it out or he's pretty close to it. There was no delaying or stalling the inevitable anymore, they had to come clean. She nods in response to the young doctor's question.

"No Reid, there is more." JJ answers as she prepares to pull up the gala photo.

Morgan stands up and brushes his suit off. He makes his way towards JJ and stands by her side.

"Before JJ tells you what she's about to tell you, there is something that you guys should know." Morgan said in a serious tone. "What she's about to say, especially about this new information and whatever we discuss here, has to stay between all of us in this room. It's why I had Garcia turn off the security camera's feed to the conference room. If anyone asks we're only working the two homicides in New Orleans."

Blake, Rossi and Reid look at each other quizzically, all wondering about the reasoning behind the discretion for this case.

"Why is that?" Reid asks, voicing the other two agent's curiosities.

"Because we're technically not supposed to be working this case or anything relating to it." Garcia speaks up. Three sets of brown eyes glance in her direction before their attention is turned back onto the media liaison. She silently thanked Garcia for the save, even though she knew that the others would be looking for a better explanation than the one the technical analyst had given them.

Taking a quick breath, the media liaison brings up the photo of the gala. A blown up picture of the four smiling men appears on the screen.

"When I was briefing Morgan the on the New Orleans case, we had Garcia run a background check on our victims, to see if they may have had anything else that may have connected them and made them targets for this unsub. Outside of being Irish immigrants and successful businessmen, we came up empty. They both grew up in different neighborhoods in Dublin, Duncan in the affluent south while Michael grew up in the worst one in the North. Flanagan graduated college and grad school with an MBA while McFadden was just getting out of prison and working as a chef at a diner."

"What did they have in common then?" Rossi asks, even though he has a good idea of what the answer could be. If he were being honest, the older agent had known what case they weren't allowed to talk about. He was there when Hotch told Morgan and Garcia what Erin had told the unit chief.

The only person who seemed to be genuinely confused and in the dark about everything that was going on was Blake. The linguist had only been a member of the team for the last year and a half.

Reid glances at the photo and the first thing that catches his attention is the blond man in the middle. Brown eyes widen as he looks into the man's ice blue eyes and gazes down at the man's wrist. He can see the stem of his four leaf clover tattoo, even though it was concealed by the older man's shoulder. The events of the last three years begin to flash into his mind, that he's tried so hard to move on from. The four leaf clover tattoo that Doyle shot off the dead john doe. His recreation of said tattoo sketched sloppily on the yellow, lined legal pad paper. The photos of the fallen JTF-12 agents posted on the evidence board. Pictures of the stranger with the chewed off thumbnail holding a gun to the head of a four year old boy with his mouth tapped shut with his caretaker supposedly dead right next to him. All of his memories from Boston and its aftermath flew through his mind as he felt his headache begin. What stands out in his mind is the conversation that faithful day he happened to overhear that started the BAU's manhunt for one of their own and the covert arms dealer.

_He sits by on top of the next desk, watching the brunette agent carefully. Over the past couple of weeks, the young doctor had noticed Emily had been acting strangely. Every time he would call her to hang out or catch a movie, she always seemed to be busy or distracted. Even though the agent looks like her normal, well put together self, wearing her usual black attire of a trench coat and matching pants. At further inspection of the brunette agent, the doctor noticed her expressive brown eyes were dull nearly nails were unusually short and it looks like she is biting her nails again. The only time the agent ever did that was whenever she was worried or stressed. The last time he had seen her bite her fingernails was in the aftermath of Foyet, during her deposition with Strauss and their superior officers. _

_He had been meaning to pull Emily aside and talk to her about whatever was troubling her. But each time he tried to, she was always preoccupied with a case or with this Tsia woman, had been calling her personal cell phone constantly. It was who she was on the phone with right now. The older agent had helped him recently in dealing with his migraines and he wanted to do the same for her now. He wanted her to know that whatever it is that she may be dealing with, she could talk to him about it. The young genius would do whatever he could to help her out, a courtesy that she had bestowed upon him many times in the last five years that she's been on the team. _

_He watches Emily close her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath in the process._

"_Lauren Reynolds is dead." Emily said, causing the young genius' to raise an eyebrow curiously. _

"_Lauren Reynolds is dead." Emily says one more time before hanging up the Iphone._

"_Who's Lauren Reynolds?" Reid blurts out without thinking. The brunette agent jumps in her seat a little, but turns around to face the mop topped doctor._

"_She was a good friend of mine."Emily responds quickly. A little too quickly for the doctor's liking. _

"_How did she die?" Reid asks sympathetically._

"_Car accident." Emily said as her eyes glance away from the young doctor._

"_I'm sorry."_

"Ian Doyle." Reid whispers in a shocked awe as Rossi and Blake stare at him in disbelief. Morgan, JJ and Garcia on the other hand, nod solemnly in confirmation. "He's the unsub we're looking at, isn't he?"

"The arms dealer wanted in several other countries, whose also happens to be at the top of the FBI's most wanted list? He's the one who-" Blake asks dumfounded. She read the story on Doyle killing an FBI agent when it broke and even had a couple of her students ask about it, but she couldn't believe that the agent he killed was in their unit. The linguist now understood why her initial reception into the team, was not the warmest she'd ever received and Spencer's closed off demeanor the first few months she was there. A part of her also was also sympathetic to her teammates for losing one of their own. It couldn't have been easy for them to deal with that, after hearing about how close everyone in this unit was to one another. While integrating a new team member into the loop that they hadn't really wanted there in the first place.

"Yeah, that's him. And he did. " Rossi answers, the shock still evident on his face. He knew that something had been up with the three of them ever since JJ returned to the Bureau.

The late nights, staying almost an hour or two later than Hotch or himself. The secretive conversations and glances that they would trade with one another. The evasive behavior and acting like they had been caught doing something that they weren't suppose to be doing whenever he would stop by Morgan's office to find the two women there with him looking over files and scraps of paper.

But what really should have tipped him off is when he saw Anderson one evening six months ago at the movies. He was on a date with Agent Sharpe and Rossi had questioned why he was there. He knew that he was supposed to be working the anonymous tip line for Doyle and before he left his office, the older agent could have sworn he heard the twitching brunette in there answering calls. He stuttered that he found a friend to cover his shift for him, who needed the hours, before quickly turns around and walks away from him with Gina trailing behind. At the time, he just wrote Anderson off as being his strange, usual self. But now it all started to make sense for the older agent.

"You three have been hunting Doyle I take it?" Rossi asks knowingly.

"Yes." JJ said with her head slightly down.

"And Anderson knew about it too? You convinced him to give up his shifts on the tip line, so the three of you could take it over?"

"Affirmative." Garcia says, slightly ashamed of the fact that they kept this from the rest of the team. "We sort of bribed him with a Star Trek collection that he couldn't refuse."

"How long have you guys been looking for him?" Reid said hurt at the betrayal as his eyes are focused solely on JJ. " And why didn't you tell Rossi and I about it. We would have been able to help find him?"

"They didn't have to tell me, kid." Rossi said turning his chair facing the hurt doctor. He then focused his gaze towards the two standing profilers. "You can thank Grant later for giving it away."

Nodding at Rossi in response, blue eyes turn and trying to look into the wounded brown eyes of the young doctor, who stared hard at the four leaf clovers.

"We're sorry, Spence. We never meant to hurt you or leave you out of our investigation." JJ said apologetically. "There were so many times we wanted to tell all of you-"

"But we wanted to be absolutely sure that we had him first." Morgan interrupts as he moves closer to the table where Reid is. He takes the folder away from the the young doctor and closes it, forcing him to look up. When Reid looks up, Morgan gives him a sympathetic gaze.

"We didn't want to get anyone's hopes up." JJ adds, wringing the remote in her hands nervously, fighting the urge to voice her concern for the young doctor.

"Hell, we didn't want to get our own hopes up for anything pretty boy." Morgan said regretfully.

"We've been through hundreds, maybe even a couple of thousand, dead end tips over the last three years. It wasn't until Will brought us this case that we finally had something tangible to go with." The dark agent then looks around the room to the quiet older agents and offers them an apologetic look, hoping for some sort of sign of approval, that they would understand their dilemma better than Reid had. "It had nothing to do with your abilities as agents, we just didn't want to reveal our hand until we had proof."

"We didn't mean to keep you all in the dark about this." Morgan apologizes. "But the three of us." He points to himself, Garcia and JJ. "Just couldn't stand by and wait for the team assigned to Doyle's case to find him because we all know that they won't. He's been underground for the last three years and we wanted to make sure that it didn't want to let another year go by that he's not rotting in jail."

Rossi and Blake look at each other, before nodding in acceptance at the nervous two profilers and analyst. They understood the reasons why they kept this to themselves and why they were so desperate to find Doyle. They had been there, each agent with the cases that haunted them, to the point where they just couldn't let go. Rossi more so than Blake.

After Emily died, Rossi wanted nothing more than to join Morgan in quitting his job and hunting down that smug bastard to the ends of the earth. Prentiss had reminded him of the daughter he never had the opportunity to have. He saw a little bit of himself in the ambitious brunette agent and shared the passion that she had for the job. So when she ran, ultimately to her death, he felt as if he had failed her and could have done more for her.

That he should have done and could more to be there for her, especially after that conversation in the elevator shortly before her departure. He thought that she would have eventually gone to one of them and served as his excuse not to probe or ask too many questions regarding the brunette's personal life. He has spent the last three years beating himself up over his inaction, like he was sure each member on the team had done at some point after her death.

In the hospital that night, when JJ returned with the news about her dying, had been up there as one of the worst nights he's ever had in recent memory. Rossi tried to be strong and level headed for the sake of the rest of the grieving team, but even then he found himself shedding a couple of stray tears for the fallen brunette. Emily's loss had hit the whole team hard in more ways than one, so the author couldn't blame Garcia, Morgan and JJ for operating their own manhunt for the arms dealer. He was more concerned about the potential fall out that could ensue for the three agents because of the politics of the higher ups, who had long forgotten what it's like to lose someone close to them in the field, if they had that experience at all. The Italian agent didn't want to see three amazing people lose their jobs for wanting justice for their fallen comrade.

"Did you tell Hotch about your three person manhunt?" Rossi asks, thinking about their unit chief for the first time since this briefing began.

"He knows now." Morgan said hesitantly, as he walked away from Reid.

"How did he take the news?" Rossi asks with a sly smile, causing the dark agent to look down embarrassed. He notices Morgan rubbing the back of his neck with one of his hands before he gets back to JJ.

Morgan turns around and glances back at Rossi.

"Let's just say, there are going to be a few pissed off, sleep deprived soldiers in his barracks right now. In the ten years I've been working for the guy, I don't think I've ever heard him scream as loud as he had." Morgan jokes with a smile, causing the whole room to chuckle in response. The unit chief had not been thrilled to learn that the agents had defied his order to discontinue their investigation. To the dark agent's surprise, Hotch had seemed to be understanding about the whole thing in spite of his anger.

"But he did give us the green light to go on with the investigation, he just wants to know what is going on from here on out. Hotch also told me that until we can get the rest of the information on our twenty four other possible victims, that we only work in the scope of the two New Orleans victims for now. He's going to try and get relieved from his assignment early so that he can come back here and help us with Doyle, if he turns out to be our unsub."

"If we happen to find Doyle before Hotch gets here, what does he want us to do then?" Blake asks, sobering the light levity of the room and bringing it back to reality.

"We go in and apprehend him." Morgan said, recounting the orders the unit chief delegated to him. "If Doyle resists, then he authorized me to take the shot."

Wanting to get back to the briefing at hand, now that the team knew what they were potentially dealing with, he sits back down in his chair as the team goes back to the files in front of them. "But before we get ahead of ourselves, let's try to establish Doyle's connections to both McFadden and Flanagan first."

"Which I may have already found, my gorgeous tiger." Garcia answers, causing the dark agent to smile.

"Take it away, baby girl." Morgan offers, sitting back and letting Garcia have the spotlight.

The technical analyst holds out her hand to the media liaison for the remote. JJ walks over to her and places it in her hand.

Garcia aims the pointer towards the monitor and begins her presentation.

"Okay, so in my research on McFadden and Flanagan, I ended digging a little deeper into the origins of this photo." Garcia introduces, bringing up an article from the nineteen-seventy-nine gala. "And I found that this was taken on Valentine's day at a fundraiser for the IRA hosted by the Flanagan's which is information these two-" the technical analyst said while pointing to Morgan and JJ. "are already aware of."

"They were both IRA?" Rossi asks.

"Not exactly." JJ answers him. " Flanagan's father was an IRA, but McFadden's history with the IRA doesn't start until after he starts working with Doyle."

"In fact, McFadden's father was a popular target on a few IRA member's kill list." Garcia adds. "He managed to swindle and con a lot of money out of them before his untimely death. For a long time, people were convinced that Michael copped to his father's murder to cover for a couple of IRA members."

"But anyway, as JJ said, Michael didn't officially join the IRA until February 1979, around the time of this gala. According to the records I managed to dig up on him, he remained a member until the day he died." Garcia says.

"Why wait two years to sign up with them though, since he'd been working for Doyle for two years?" Reid asks.

"Initiation period." Rossi answers. "We know Doyle's paranoid to a fault and is always watching his back. He probably wanted to know if he could truly trust McFadden before he allowed him into his inner circle and the benefits that come along with it."

Reid nods in understanding and looks towards Garcia, waiting for more information.

"Wonder what was involved in the initiation process?" Reid asks.

"I really don't think you do, kid." Rossi said.

"He's right, you don't." Garcia adds. "I may not have been able to find much information on Michael McFadden after 1979. But I did find thirty-six different identities that match up or closely resemble our deceased victim."

The technical analyst pulls up a compilation of id cards, driver's licenses and passports that all supposedly belong to Michael McFadden in the order of the date they were issued. They contained different names, birthdays, social security numbers and such. Even Michael's appearance in some of the pictures of the cards was not consistent. In some, he had dyed his hair blond. There are a few of them with jet black hair. The last six identities, McFadden's hair was a dark reddish color and hints of grey on the sides. The only way any of the profilers could tell it was him was based off the crooked smile and missing back teeth that the man couldn't help but display, even when he wasn't trying.

"Shawn Hagar, Jethro McKinley, Michael McKenzie, Joshua Terry, Cedric Keegan and dozen other names belonged to Michael McFadden." Garcia said proudly.

"How did he not go crazy trying to remember them all?" Rossi asks in astonishment. "I'd go crazy if I had to remember nine of those at a time. Let alone thirty-six."

"Because he burned through each and every one of them. My guess is he either dumped them when they served their purpose, the police started catching on to him and his illicit activities or when Interpol caught on to his trail. Especially in the late nineties, when they began their investigation on Doyle." Garcia answers. "For good reason."

"Why's that?" JJ asks.

"Half of the identities that McFadden had, nine of those were being investigated for a few disappearances of local residents who were supposedly paying Doyle for running weapons for them. Six of those cases were later upgraded to murder investigations when the bodies or parts of the bodies identified as the victims were found. Nine identities of those identities looked good for two brutal murders that involved decapitation, three rapes and gruesome assaults afterward. The other six involved various crimes of theft such as grand theft auto, the robbing of a local jewelry store and the battery and assaults of numerous bar patrons around the area."

"The guy sounds like a textbook sociopath if you ask me." Blake observes.

"Which would make him the perfect enforcer for Doyle." JJ said, crossing her arms.

"You have no idea sugar plum." Garcia agrees. "I went through Interpol's files and narrowed my search down to possible suspects who fit McFadden's description or were a close match to one of his alias' description. And let me tell you, those cases were too brutal for even my slightly-new-tolerance-to -crime-scenes mind to handle."

"At least he did was before his heart attack on January 13, 2000. The next year, he opens up McFadden's place. Our once favorite pub is now tainted with the ick factor that was its owner."

"Just out of curiosity, do we know who put up the money for the pub?" Blake asks. "With McFadden's background and salary, there was no way that he could have paid for a place that nice on his own without a partner involved."

"And so few businessmen would hesitate to give money to a former international felon." Garcia said as she points the remote towards the monitor again, bringing up McFadden's financials for the restaurant. "But lucky for McFadden, some very kind and generous donor put up nearly all of the money for McFadden's place as an investment."

"Who would do that?" Morgan asks.

"The donor isn't listed. They're considered a silent partner." Garcia tells him. "The only thing that we know about the anonymous donor is that they signed the property lease papers with the initials of I.D. The man who sat with McFadden at the hospital, after his heart attack, coincidentally fit the description of our friendly neighborhood international arms dealer. "

"The restaurant must have been one hell of a severance package." Rossi comments.

"Or hush money." Morgan said. "Maybe after the heart attack, Doyle wanted to buy his reassurance that he wouldn't cooperate with Interpol or the other agencies gunning for him."

"Doyle would always know where to find him, just in case the pub wasn't enough to keep him quiet." Rossi adds.

"You both are right on the money." Garcia said. "Because according to his adult prison record, the reason behind his early release was that he worked out some agreement with the prison guards and became one of their informants. McFadden managed to stop a planned prison riot attempt with the information that he gave them on his roommate at the time. McFadden was then placed in protected custody, after one of the men involved in the failed riot planned to kill him. He was released on good behavior a few months after that incident."

"McFadden is an enforcer but at the same time, he's an opportunist who only cares about himself and anything that could benefit him. He's big enough and yet strategic enough to stay in Doyle's good graces after his tenure with him was over. That connection was easy enough." Reid comments after a while.

"But what role did Duncan Flanagan play in all of this? Why would someone coming from the background he's from, want anything to do with Doyle outside of their IRA connection?"

"Great question mon amie." Garcia said smiling at the young doctor. "To which I may have the answer to." She clicks through the financials of Duncan Flanagan as well as a few shipping statements belonging to Duncan's company.

"The Flanagan family is not the squeaky clean, Irish version of the Cleavers that they made themselves out to be." Garcia introduces the information to the team. "Both Adele Flanagan and her husband, Lucas were heavily involved with the IRA before Gerald and Duncan were born. After that, Adele stepped as far away from the group and her ties with them. While her husband on the other hand, did not."

"In fact, daddy Flanagan actually donated over one hundred and fifty million dollars to Doyle's IRA group from 1989 up until March 30, 1999, when he tripped in the shower and fell into a coma that he would never awaken from . Why he would do that you ask my lovely band of crime fighters? Well the answer is simple: Lachlan McDermott."

The technical analyst pulls up a picture of a man in his late forties or early fifties with shoulder length, light brown hair and a little scruff around his mouth. His light blue eyes were sternly looking off into the distance at something that the rest of the profilers couldn't make out.

"McDermott was born in Belfast, Ireland on August 26, 1962. His parents, Lionel and Adrienne, were killed in a car accident when he was about ten years old. But get this, the police officials may have ruled it an accident, but in the crash report, it said that the breaks appeared to have been cut. They couldn't prove it beyond a reason of a doubt because of how old the car was."

"McDermott and his seven year old brother Jimmy, where sent to live with their grandfather, James McDermott, a widower who owned a fishing company. When he died in eighty-nine, Lachlan revamped the business, started over from scratch and created McDermott shipping co, which happened to be in direct competition with Flagcon." Garcia continues on. " As you can imagine, Lucas was not very happy about that-"

"So he hired Doyle to take "care" of his competition." Morgan said.

"Brains and beauty, I like my love." Garcia said as she gave Morgan a beaming smile. " But it looks like it. Doyle really didn't need that much convincing though."

"What do you mean by that kitten?" Rossi asks.

"Doyle and McDermott sort of had a thing, where they hated each others guts." Garcia answers pulling up an obituary. "In 1990, Jimmy McDermott, who was highly intoxicated at the time, decided to confront Doyle about him messing with his big brother. Doyle happened to be in the same bar as the younger McDermott at the time. They get into each others faces and the fight gets taken outside in an alleyway. While Jimmy was turned around, Doyle took the opportunity and slashed his neck open. The police found him the next day."

"Were there any witness?" Blake asks.

"Anyone who witnessed the fight either refused to come forward or were mysteriously unavailable at the time." Garcia explains. "The police were forced to keep the case closed. But they ended up reopening it a few months later, when Lachlan gets the knife with his brother's blood on it back in the mail. Unfortunately they had to close it again when they couldn't find any fingerprints on the knife."

"That was cold." Rossi comments. "Apparently flaunting his wealth isn't the only thing he likes to flaunt."

"They've been at each others throats ever since." Garcia finishes.

"Were you able to find any possible monetary transactions between Lucas and Doyle?" JJ ask.

"Sorry pumpkin, I came up short on that front. Lucas was smart on that front. He may have either paid in an account that I wouldn't be able to trace or under the table." Garcia said slightly disappointed. "But I did find something interesting on Duncan. The Flanagan patriarch wasn't the only member paying Doyle off. "

"What's that?" Blake asks.

"According to Duncan's bank records, he had a business account opened in a Boston area bank, the Second National. It's across the street from this pub called The Black Shamrock. It just so happened to be the same bar that Doyle frequented when he was in town before his initial arrest in Italy." Garcia tells them, watching as their eyebrows raise.

She looks over her shoulder to the media liaison, whose blue eyes were widen in shock and the color appears to have drained out of her face. If it weren't for the fact that everyone was in the room, the technical analyst was sure that her best friend's knees would have given out in that moment.

"You okay sugar?" Garcia asks with concern laced in her tone, catching the attention of the other profilers in the room who look over in their direction.

JJ shakes her head and nods. As soon as Garcia mentioned the Shamrock, the media liaison couldn't help her visceral reaction to the name, try as she might. She remembers the name from a small, leather bound notebook, that currently sat securely in her safe at home. She hadn't looked at it since the night before Emily's funeral. The blond read it to help her cry and keep up the illusion of the grieving friend for the team and the rest of the world who thought Emily Prentiss was dead at the time. After Emily's real death, it had taken every ounce of strength within her not to reach into the safe and burn her best friend's secrets within it.

Now a part of the contents of that book was coming back to haunt the media liaison and the rest of the team was looking at her as if she'd lost blond couldn't help but wish that this briefing was over sooner, rather than later.

"Yeah, I'm fine Pen. Really." JJ said dismissively, directing that last statement to the concerned eyes of the rest of the team. She crossed her arms protectively over her chest, "Is the account still open?"

"No." Garcia said, filing away the media liaison's reaction for later on. " It was closed May 31,2011. A couple of months after Emily died." The technical analyst eyes welled up a little at the mention of the brunette. It's been three years and she still found herself wanting to cry at the mention of Emily. She thought about her fallen friend all the time, but for some reason, that she couldn't quite explain, the blond found herself thinking about the brunette more now.

Not wanting to get too emotional in front of the rest of the team, Garcia clears her throat and moves on to the information that she found on Duncan. "The account was opened up in October 10, 1994. Here's where things get interesting mon amies."

She holds the remote up to the monitor and opens up the next part of Duncan Flanagan's financials.

"Every year on October tenth, Flanagan would fly up to Boston and place twenty-one thousand dollars into the account. And the next day, a man by the name of Judd O'Grady, who claimed to work in upper management for Flagcon, would come in and clear the account completely."

"Flanagan did this every year?" Morgan asks.

"Yes." Garcia answers. "Except in 1998, when Flanagan tried to have the accounted closed." The technical analyst pulls up the notes made to the Flagcon account.

"According to the manager's notations, that year Flanagan came in and requested that the account be closed. It took them a couple of hours and a pep talk from the manager, but that wasn't enough to change Flanagan's mind. Said that he was adamant about having that account closed. The next day though, another person who was an authorized user on the account, claimed to be Duncan's assistant, requested that the account be reopened. This assistant told the manager that made a mistake in having it closed and wished to reopen it right away. They had forty-two thousand dollars wired into the account hours later. O'Grady came and picked it up the next day."

"That doesn't make any sense." Rossi said. "Why would he go through all that trouble have it close, only to open it back up hours later?"

"He met with Doyle later on in the day ." JJ offered. " We know how convincing he can be. Gave Flanagan a few good reasons why he should keep the account open and he had his assistant reopen it."

"That's what I assumed too. Unfortunately that wasn't the case." Garcia says. " According to Duncan's travel records, he caught a flight out of Boston to Dublin shortly after his visit to the bank."

"So he has his assistant make the call for him." Morgan said. "That doesn't mean he stopped making his trips there."

"But it does." Garcia says cryptically. " When Flanagan attempted to close the account, that was the last time he ever stepped foot in that bank. After that, his assistant would make the deposits there every year, on schedule until May 2011. The assistant was actually the one who closed down the account."

"Who makes their 'assistant' an authorized user on their business account, if it were money for their company?" Blake observes.

"It would have to be someone that Flanagan trusted without a shadow of a doubt. I don't think he would have handed that kind of power to someone random kid or intern he didn't know and wasn't close to." JJ adds "they could have been a close friend, relative-"

"Or his wife, Shelly Flanagan." Reid spoke for the first time in a while, having all of the attention turned on him. The other profilers in the room nod in agreement as the pieces to the puzzle were starting to come together."Duncan could have called him after he closed the account and told them that their arrangement was over-"

"Doyle's next call would have been to Duncan's house. The wife picks up and he tells her that if her husband doesn't pay the money that's owed to him and doubled it for insurance, that he would have someone come after their family." Rossi said. "The next day she makes the call posing as his 'assistant and wires the money from their personal account to the reopened one in Boston. He probably didn't have a clue that she had given him the money and didn't notice it was missing or that she continued to give Doyle money for a while. After Doyle kills Emily, he finds out about the account and has it shut down immediately so that the agencies looking for Ian don't trace the money back to him or his family."

Morgan nods. "Garcia, do you know if the bank manager in charge in 1998 is still working there?"

"No." the technical analyst replies. "He stepped down in 2010. I can work my magic and run background check to see if he's still in the Boston area and get his contact information that way."

"You do that, baby girl." Morgan said. "See if he can tell you anything he remembers about this assistant or if he noticed anything unusual about Flanagan when he went to close the account."

"Twenty-one thousand dollars is a lot of money not to notice is going missing every year? Is there a possibility that he may have caught on before then?" Reid asks as he leans back into his chair.

"Oh my naïve, little boy wonder." Garcia states. "Let's just say that twenty-one grand or even forty-two grand is basically like paying for a burger and fries at Five guys for someone like Duncan. He had a net worth of sixty million dollars from his docks and warehouses that's without counting the money that he inherited from his father."

"Garcia's right. Twenty-one grand a year is chump change to someone like Duncan." Morgan said as he rubs the bottom of his chin in thought. "So why wouldn't Doyle try to get more money out of him than that? It's not like Duncan couldn't afford to pay him more than what he was asking for keeping McDermott off of his back and protecting him from anyone else. What else was Doyle getting out of Flanagan that he apparently didn't want anyone else to know about?"

"His docks and warehouses." JJ mutters quietly, causing the other profilers to stare at her in attention. "Doyle could have used them to have his supplies imported and exported from whatever country Flagcon was situated in easily. Flanagan must have given him unrestricted access to them in exchange for not raising his rate for protection." The media liaison finishes, wondering why she hadn't put that together sooner.

"Interpol and the other agencies would have a hell of a hard time tracking them." Rossi adds. "Because as far as they're concerned, all of Flagcon's shipments were legit. They weren't going to go through all of their supplies to see that."

"I'll check into Flagcon's records to see if I can find any unusually heavier shipments than what was normal for them, within the last twenty years coming in and out of the US to any of Flagcon's docks in Western Europe."

"Always reading my mind, aren't you baby girl?" Morgan said smiling.

"You know it." Garcia says nodding confidently.

Getting back to the matter at hand, Derek stands up and walks over to the whiteboard facing the front of the table, by the door. He picks up the black marker and writes McFadden's name on the left side of the board and Flanagan's name on the right.

"We know that our New Orleans victims were connected to Doyle so far." Morgan said as he moves over to McFadden's side of the board. " McFadden was his enforcer, muscle and handled security for him from 1977 to 2000." He writes the word 'enforcer' on the board as well as the years that he worked for Doyle.

"Flanagan provided his financial means, to a point, and the resources that he needed to transport his supplies up until he became public enemy number one for the Bureau." Morgan also writes down the information on the whiteboard. "It wouldn't be out of the question to assume that Duncan or his wife also provided him with means of transportation to go from one country to the next without going through any TSA checkpoints. Especially if it's a private plane.

"These two were his most recent kills, but if we include the bodies from various locations in Europe and the US, his body count is up to twenty-six." the dark agent finishes as he turns to face the rest of the team.

"Judging by the way the branding was done on McFadden comparing it to the deaths of Charlotte Pierre and Jack Dawson, Doyle's has gotten better with his kills but at the same time, he also seems to be getting angrier. We'll know more once we get the information on the rest of the victims, but it appears as if Doyle is saving the people who were closest to him for whatever his endgame happens to be."

"He must be working with a list." Rossi said. " That will include all of the people who were or as in the case of our latest victims, still are working for him. We just have to find out whose next on the list before he does and figure out whether or not he has some sort of endgame in mind."

JJ, Morgan and Garcia all look to one another knowing for a moment. Silently, they all knew that now was as good of a time as ever to tell the team about Declan and Louise. JJ steps forward and clears her throat, volunteering to break the news to the team.

"We already know what that missing piece of Doyle's endgame is already." JJ said wearily. "Declan Jones."

Rossi and Reid exchange looks of surprise with one another at the mention of the young boy, now teenager's name. The two agents hadn't heard that name in three years and as far as they knew, Emily stowed Declan away somewhere. They knew that Doyle would be searching for his son when he discovered that Emily had not killed him or Louise as she had bluffed to him. Where ever the boy and his nanny were at the moment and knowing Emily, they were assured with the thought that they would be somewhere safe. Doyle would spend whatever time he had left on earth searching for the son he never knew. But hearing the tone of the stoic media liaison's voice, something told them that they were dead wrong.

"Six months ago, Garcia and I searched through the evidence bag of Ben Correli." Morgan said pointing to himself and the technical analyst. "He was the forger that Doyle shot and killed, along with Tsia Mosley, Emily's former colleagues from her days with the JTF-12."

"We were searching for Declan because we figured that's something Doyle would do even in his seclusion." Garcia adds from her spot at the table. "When we looked into the bag, we found all of the ids that Correli had made up that the CSU team recovered in the safe house. We found several ids with the names Declan and Louise from locations all over the country."

"Garcia and Morgan assumed that one of Emily's reasons for joining the BAU would be to stay in close proximity to Declan." JJ continues on for her while pulling up the pictures of Declan and Louise's false ids from 2004.

The four year old, curly light blond haired Declan was facing sideways away from the camera. The crystal clear blue eyes of the young boy faced downward shyly as his picture was being taken. Louise looked expressionlessly into the camera and her light brown hair looked to be down her back. "So they took out all of the ids that were in and around the DC area or within a thirty mile radius of it."

"There were exactly ten ids that matched that specific criteria." Garcia said. "But the closest we found was a suburb fifteen miles out of DC and twenty miles out of Quantico. Declan and Louise Jones from Ruston,Virginia."

The ids that appeared on the screen were of a thirteen year old Declan. His hair was shorter, only reaching down to his ears and a slightly darker blond than it had been when he was younger. The little hair that nearly covered his eyes was swept haphazardly off to the side. His face had become a little fuller and you could see a few light brown freckles on both sides of his cheeks. His lips were in a thin line as the serious expression marred his face and the resemblance to his arms dealing father was uncanny.

Louise had grown a little bit older, since the first few id pictures were taken. A couple of frown lines and wrinkles could be found on the nanny's face, mostly around her eyes and mouth. Her eyes look a little more sunken then they had been before their escape from Doyle. The stress of being in hiding from the arms dealer had obviously taken its toll on the caretaker. She had a ghost of a smile on her lips this time, as opposed to the photo from 2004. Louise's reddish brown hair was shorter, with some of it getting slightly into her eyes.

"After we found Declan and Louise, our next step was to find a list of contacts for Emily from abroad and stateside, of people that she may have been close to and trusted. Not surprisingly, that was a very short list." Garcia adds while she stands up from the table and moves over to the monitor next to Morgan.

"But we manage to weed out all of her contacts who haven't been in the DC area within the last ten years." Morgan continues on. "We narrowed that list down to one person."

"Tom Kearns." JJ finishes, pointing the remote to the monitor. She brings up a picture of a man in his early forties with a short, blond buzz cut with little wisps of grey can be found in the front of his hair line. His eyes were clear and blue, that nearly matched Declan's but were a tad bit darker. His smile was white and bright, a contrast to his tanned complexion.

"Born July 26, 1969, Tom is a native of Ruston, Virginia. He has no other family outside of his father, who passed away when he was nineteen years old of a heart attack. He never married and for all intents and purposes, is married to his job. He graduated from Brown University with a BA in Political Science and got his JD from Columbia. He was recruited by the FBI shortly afterwards and once he graduated from the academy, he started working in counter terrorism. His record with the FBI is nearly spotless. The only black mark on his record is that he may have gotten a little too rough on a suspect he was interrogating."

"In 2000, he was loaned out on special assignment for two years to Interpol. The only thing we could find on said mission is that his job was to help the JTF-12, hunt down a former KGB agent who was reportedly selling nuclear weapons to various terrorist groups throughout a few countries in Eastern Europe and the middle east." JJ finishes.

"We're thinking that's where they may have met." Garcia says. " I checked his phone records, matched them with Emily's cell number and the number from the Blackberry she used from her days at Interpol. Around the time of Doyle's reappearance and Emily's disappearance, he's called both numbers several times. Emily called him right before I called her the night she went looking for Doyle."

"After Emily's confrontation with Doyle, Agent Kearns put in a request to his boss, asking him to relieve him from working overseas." Morgan fills in. "He said that a friend of his, who was helping him raise his son, passed away suddenly and that he needed to be home more for him. SSA Bronson granted his request and even allows him to work from home occasionally as long as the case isn't a priority."

"He also happens to be the lead agent working on Doyle's case." JJ said, wrapping up their presentation on Agent Kearns. "The one Strauss handed over to counter terrorism."

"Have you guys tried contacting him or his department about any of this? You know, to give him a heads up on your knowledge of Declan's existence?" Rossi asks.

"Or are you going to wait until Doyle comes pounding on his door, looking for Declan?" Reid asks bitterly.

"Not yet." JJ says, ignoring Reid's comment for the moment. "Although Derek and I have been taking turns running surveillance on Declan at his school and following him back to his house and neighborhood."

"Isn't that a little risky, considering the circumstances?" Rossi asks cautiously.

"We made sure to stay a good distance away from Declan and anyone else noticed that we were there." Morgan said defensively, taking a little offense to Rossi's implication. Neither JJ or himself would never do anything that could possibly jeopardize the blond teen's safety. "From what we saw, it didn't look like he was being monitored by anyone."

"We weren't just following him around, hoping to luck out and find Doyle." JJ confesses, as the media liaison felt the need to defend not only herself, but Derek as well and their intentions. Six months ago, they may have been using Declan as a way to find Doyle. But the media liaison had found herself needing to know

"We wanted to see if Declan's doing alright in spite of everything that's he gone through in the last ten years. And you know what? He's doing just fine. He's come in first place in several science fair contests and is captain of his school's lacrosse team. He has a ton of friends and his teachers adore him."

"The kid's doing well for himself considering." Morgan adds in agreement with JJ.

"He has the life that Emily would have wanted for him." Garcia chimes in softly.

"And it's our job to make sure that he gets to keep that life." JJ says defiantly. "Even if we have to break a lousy protocol or two in order to do that."

There is a pause in the conversation, as Rossi tries to come up with reasons to chastise the three agents' behaviors. Interfering with another department's investigation. But now they were possibly putting Declan's life in danger through their following him. If they could find him as easily as they had, imagine how easy it would be for Doyle or anyone else looking for this kid to find him.

The older agent's eyes land on the media noticed the fiery passion and determination shining through her eyes throughout the briefing, and it took him by surprise. He had never seen the blond react this passionately about a case before. It concerned him a little how much the blond liaison seemed to wanted this unsub to be Doyle. This case had been personal for everyone but it seemed like JJ wanted this more than anyone here.

The dark haired agent made a note to himself to pull JJ aside and talk to her about it.

The Italian agent glances over at Morgan, ready to move on to the next part of the investigation.

"How exactly do you wanna handle this, Derek?" Rossi asks.

The dark agent takes a step forward and addresses the rest of the team.

"We work this case like we have any of our other cases." Morgan orders. "If Cruz asks, we'll tell him we're working on the Flanagan and McFadden homicides in New make no mention of the twenty-four possible other bodies until we can positively connect them to Doyle."

"Rossi and Blake." Morgan says turning to the two agents in the back. "You two are going to take the jet to New Orleans in an hour to meet up with Will at the New Orleans police department. I want you to go down to the coroner's office to look at McFadden's body and see if we can have it transported to Quantico's medical examiner. I also want you to go pay a visit to and talk to her about her husband and the night of his murder. Rossi, you can fill Blake in on everything involving Doyle on the flight there."

The two agents in question stand up, collect the files on the desk and make their way to the door with their marching orders. Blake is the first leave the room, but not without sending a concerned glance over to the unusually quiet young doctor.

Reid feels her eyes on the back of his head. He that she was concerned about him after JJ, Morgan and Garcia's revelations. If this had been any of the other team members, it would have been enough of a reason for the young doctor to hand in his transfer when he takes a moment to actually look the linguist in the eyes and see that she is not looking at him like he's not a capable agent who was so fragile that he could break at any moment. It was a look that said she only wanted to know if he was going to be okay before the real work began. Or if he needed a moment to decompress and talk about what was bothering him about the three agent's deception. In that moment, the young doctor was thankful for the linguist's understanding.

He turns around and gives her a small yet tentative smile, as a way to reassure the older doctor that he would be okay. He gives her a smile wave as well before his focus goes back to the rest of the debriefing. He hears the clicks of Blake's boots as she walks away and the door close.

Morgan then points to the sitting Reid and technical analyst. "Garcia and Reid, you guys are going to stay here at Quantico and work on victimology. When the files come in from Interpol and the other police departments, I want you guys to work on a timeline on all of Doyle's victims. Also dig into their backgrounds and find any possible connections to Doyle. If they ate in the same pub as him or ordered the same dish for dinner as him, I want to know about sooner we figure out the order he may be killing his victims in, the sooner we'll be able to get ahead of him before he kills his next victim. Understood?"

Reid nods and stands up abruptly, not sparing the three agents left a second glance, and walks out of the room, making his way towards the technical analyst office.

JJ looks down at the table, the guilt of lying to the young doctor setting in. She had been the one the scrawny doctor had gone to whenever he couldn't get his mind off of Emily. He had even confessed to her about his near relapse over it all. And yet she had lied to him over and over again about what she was really doing at work after hours. It was probably a good thing that he didn't know that she was still lying to him. But he had to understand on some level, that the only reason they lied was to protect his feelings.

The media liaison feels a hand grip her shoulder comfortingly. She looks over and sees Garcia giving her a warm smile. When Morgan's not looking, the technical analyst mouths 'I'll talk to him', referring to Reid, and then pats her shoulder.

Morgan turns to JJ and Garcia, oblivious to their silent conversation.

"JJ, you and I are going to McFadden's place to talk to his employees there."Morgan said as he put his hands in his pocket. "Maybe they can tell us why he was in New Orleans and tell us if Doyle's been around there."

JJ nods. "I'll go call Will and give him a heads up on Rossi and Blake coming to see him."

"No need, I'll do it." Garcia offers happily. She figured that he best friend and Morgan would be anxious to get out of here and grill everyone whose even breathed the same air as Michael McFadden. "Besides, I wanted to ask Will to have Gabs send back a pot of some of the best gumbo I've ever had, back with Rossi and Blake."

"Now that you mentioned it Pen, that doesn't sound like a bad idea." JJ said with a smile, before Morgan had a chance to answer her. "If she can, will you ask Gabby if she can make a batch for Henry and I. Eating her gumbo is the only time I can get him to eat any vegetables."

"Gumbo? Doesn't that have meat in it?" Morgan asked confused. "I thought you were a vegetarian?"

"Vegan, my inattentive hunk. And Gabby happened to be a vegetarian before the got pregnant." Garcia said as she lightly slaps him on his right pecs. "She's told you the last time they were in DC."

"Must have slipped my mind, baby girl." Morgan said sarcastically holding his hands up. "Between hunting down a dangerous international arms dealer and dealing with pretty boy's cold shoulder, remembering Will's wife's eating preferences wasn't the first thing on my mind."

The technical analyst frowns when she sees Morgan avoid eye contact with her and stuff his hands in his pockets at the mention of the young genius. JJ hadn't faired much better, choosing to look towards the conference room window facing the bullpen. Even though both agents were too stubborn to admit it, Reid pushing them away hurt them. The four of them have been at the BAU together for ten years and it hurt to see Reid this upset at them.

Garcia was sure that with time, the boy wonder's logic would kick in and he would see that they weren't lying to the rest of the team out of maliciousness or false sense of glory. That they were doing this to protect everyone, from Doyle who would have retaliated against the BAU, like the last time, if he discovered they'd found him. She didn't want to imagine what the director of the Bureau would do to them if their after hours investigation was uncovered.

She grabs the dark agent's arm and strokes her hand comfortingly down to his hand. "Don't worry my Adonis, the boy wonder will come around."

"I know that, gorgeous." Morgan said with a smile, clasping her hand and rubbing his thumb on top of it. "Though I wish it would be sooner rather than later."

"He will. After I give him one of my famous pep talks, I'm sure he'll be back to his normal, unnecessary factoid self again. " Garcia said confidently.

"And if he doesn't?" JJ asks playfully, chewing a little on her bottom lip.

"Then Reid will cease to exist and be wiped off of the face of the planet." Garcia said darkly, with a smirk. "I love the boy wonder as much as it is possible. But nobody hurts my hunk and goddess and thinks that they'll get away with it."

JJ and Morgan both laugh at the goofy technical analyst. Before they could really get into their banter, the turning of the door knob. Morgan walks over to the whiteboard and flips it over to the blank side just as their new visitor walks through the door.

The new section chief, Mateo Cruz, who was dressed a bit too causally for someone than any other section chief any of the three agents had seen previously, walks through the door. He was wearing a light blue blouse, with the first three buttons undone. His cerulean and navy blue stripped tie hung loosely around his neck as his hands were placed loosely in the pockets of his finely pressed grey pants. His jet black hair, that was peppered grey on the sides, was slightly slicked forward. The new section chief wasn't doing too bad, appearance wise, for a man nearing his late fifties. He appeared to be ten years younger than that.

His casual demeanor had been a stark contrast from their previous section chief Strauss' stringent, by the book attitude and climb the ranks of the FBI attitude. From the first case that they had with him, since Strauss' untimely death, Cruz insisted on going with them to watch how the team works. He observed them and rarely interfered with their work, with the exception of the occasional question and suggestion. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Cruz had extensive experience in the field and was actually hired right after being on special assignment with the State Department. He knew what it was like to deal with the bureaucratic red tape and how much harder it made their jobs. So he followed their lead and worked the case with them and not as their superior officer. His suggestion to Morgan was actually the reason why they ended up finding that unsub.

After the Baltimore case, Cruz had earned the seal of approval of the team. With JJ, though, Cruz had earned it long before his tenure at the BAU. During her year and a half at the State Department, the media liaison and Cruz had formed a tentative friendship. He made sure that her transition with the department went smoothly, taking her out to dinner to inform her of all the people in the department she should be friendly with and all of the sleazy old commanders the blond should avoid. During a special assignment with the State Department, he went above and beyond his call of duty and made sure that she was out of the line of fire.

When Emily had to be placed in a federal protection program in the aftermath of Doyle, he was the one who took her case and made all of the arrangements for her. He found her apartment and got her a job at a Parisian government agency using one of his old contacts. Cruz even made sure that Emily would be well taken care of with her new identities and bank accounts. After Emily was safely position in her new home, Cruz taught the media liaison how to keep in contact with her, breaking several rules and regulations. In a rare moment of vulnerability, she even told the new section chief of her newly discovered feelings for the brunette. Instead of judging her and thinking of her as being weak, Cruz hugged her and told the media liaison that through hell or high water, he would make sure that Prentiss came home in one piece. He swore to JJ that she would get to tell the brunette how she felt and that it would all work out.

The latin section chief was there for her eight months ago after he called her early that August morning about Emily's demise. He had given her all the time off she may have needed. Mateo had stopped by her house later that night to check on the blond. When he found her fatigued, lithe figure on the floor next to two empty bottles of vodka, he carried her up the stairs and put her to bed. He ended up sleeping on the couch and listened as the media liaison vented and reminisced about Emily.

JJ trusted Cruz wholeheartedly, which was a hard thing for the blond to do. And the section chief hadn't given her any cause to not trust him. Even if she didn't always agree with the decisions he made for the team, like Hotch and Rossi, she had trusted them to be the best for the team. Mateo was sort of like a mentor for the blond. After she heard about him being the new hire for the BAU, the media liaison worked tirelessly to make sure the team saw the same guiding influence in Cruz that she had seen while she was in the state department. A year and a half later, JJ sees that the team has finally started to come around and sees what she sees in their new leader.

Cruz smiles at all three of the agents and walks toward them.

"Agents Jareau, Morgan." Cruz greets shortly, receiving a smile from JJ and a nod from Morgan. "Garcia." His eyes land on Garcia, narrowing his eyes playfully as he notices the close proximity of the dark agent and their colorful technical analyst.

Misreading his glare, Garcia takes a careful step back away from Morgan, looking as if she were being scolded like a child. They had recently had a seminar on sexual harassment, in which some unsavory conversations between herself and her chocolate god had been exposed for the whole department to see. She was still getting ribbed by the agents in the coffee room, who have started calling her coco and asking her where her ice t was. She glanced back at the new section chief, who had his arms crossed over himself and stared pointedly back at her in return, did not look as amused as all the other agents in their department seemed to be.

"Sir?" Garcia greets carefully.

Not being able to hold it in anymore, Cruz's serious expression morphs into laughter.

"Relax Garcia, you're fine." Cruz reassures her with a chuckle.

The technical analyst's smile widens as she chuckles a long with their section chief for a bit. When he's done, Mateo looks over at the whiteboard with pictures on it, halting his laughter.

"New case?" Cruz asks after a while.

JJ, Morgan and Garcia all exchange looks with one another, to see who wants to be the one to brief their section chief on the New Orleans' case.

Morgan and Garcia silently agree that it should be JJ, since she had a better relationship with the guy then they had. They look at the media liaison, who rolls her eyes at them in response. She turns to Cruz with a small smile.

"Yeah, in New Orleans." JJ said. Cruz turns towards the media liaison and focuses his attention on her.

"Two men, who were both in their late fifties, were found dead in the same location but killed months apart. Victim number one, Duncan Flanagan, was shot three times in his home office with his wife and sixteen year old daughter home. Victim number two, Michael McFadden, was found hanging upside down in victim number one's home. The realtor found him right before an open house for the Flanagan home that was scheduled for that afternoon."

Cruz steps away from the three agents and moves towards the desk, opening up the case file. As he flips the file open, he stops immediately on the branding of Duncan Flanagan. His eyes widen a little bit, that was not noticeable to the three agents before him. He stares at the image for a few moments more, going over the familiar branding with his brown eyes. His jaw tightens and as well as his grip on the file.

"Really?" Cruz said a bit strained. He flips the page over to the branding of McFadden, feeling his shoulders becoming tense the longer he stared at the branding.

The agents and technical analyst did not notice their section chief reaching into his pockets and pulling out his phone. Nor did they see him take a couple of pictures of McFadden's scare while discreetly placing the phone back into his pocket.

A few minutes go by before Cruz finally closes the folder and lightly tosses it back onto the desk. Mateo turns around and looks over at the three agents, putting his hands back in his pockets.

"Do you think these two cases are connected?" Cruz asks curiously.

"So far, it's looking that they are." JJ says. "The problem is, we don't know exactly how Michael McFadden died or where he died. We'd need to take a look at his body in order to determine that."

"Rossi and Blake are in route to New Orleans as we speak." Morgan jumps in. "They are going to meet with the coroner as soon as they get there and then they'll call us back with a cause of death."

Cruz nods. "Are there any other bodies with the brandings as a signature, by any chance?"

JJ and Morgan look at each other knew if they told him about the other bodies, they would also have to tell him about their connection to Doyle. As cool as the section chief was, the two agents knew that he would have pulled them off the case faster than Reid can put together a star puzzle.

Seeing her two friends' dilemmas, Garcia steps up and takes over the conversation.

"Not according to VICAP, sir." Garcia lied seamlessly. "I searched through every database at my disposal and I came up empty."

The section chief briefly looks at the technical analyst, surprise briefly etching his features, but he covers it well a second later and goes back to his relaxed demeanor.

"Ok." Cruz said casually. "Was the request made by the New Orleans pd for the BAU's help?"

"Not officially." JJ said. "But I did receive a call from Will this morning requesting our help. He's the lead detective on the case. It's all a matter of filling out the proper paperwork and having Will sign off it later."

"As long as you make it official for your report, it's fine with me." Cruz reassures her with a smile. "How's Will doing by the way?"

"He's fine for the most part." JJ tells him."But wasn't all that happy about having to leave his pregnant wife at home, by herself on the first day of his two week vacation to work a case they unofficially closed six months ago."

"Yeah, well the job is always hardest on the relationships that for sure." Cruz chuckles. "My ex fiancee couldn't handle the fact that my job was practically my first wife. And she's a US district attorney."

The three agents laugh at their section chief, thankful that his questions about the investigation have come to an end.

"Why do you think I've been single for the last five years?" Morgan jokes along with the section chief.

"Aw, my chocolate Thor, that's not true." Garcia pouts empathetically, while wrapping an arm around the dark agent's shoulder. "The only reason you're still single is because you haven't found anyone as great as me."

"If that's the case, Pen, then it looks like Derek is going to be swinging single forever." JJ says sarcastically. "There is no one out there as good as you."

Garcia turns to Cruz. "And this is why I've kept them around for ten years." She says as she points to JJ and leans in closer to Morgan.

The four FBI agents laugh for a few minutes longer before section chief Cruz stops and pulls out his phone. He briefly checks the time and then puts it back into his pocket.

"Well, it seems like you guys have a good handle on this case. Should be an open and shut case" Cruz tells them, while the three agents in question nod. He turns to face Morgan.

"I'll leave you guys to it then. You'll let me know how this case is coming along or if you need anything , right?"

"Yes sir." Morgan said. "It'll all be in my report when we're done."

"That's what I like to hear." Cruz says nodding. "I should probably get going now. I've got an appointment with the brass to keep. Unless you guys needed me for anything?"

The three agents nod in the negative and the section chief takes that as his cue to leave.

The section chief turns around and walks over to the conference room door. Before he leaves, he turns facing to face the media liaison.

"JJ!" Cruz calls out to her.

JJ jumps a little at the sound of her name and nervously glances over to the section chief. "Yes sir?"

"Tell Henry I said hi." Cruz said smiling. "And that I hope he enjoyed the movie."

JJ smiles politely at the section chief. "He loved it. He now worships the ground Captain America walks on now."

Cruz chuckles. "Good to know. The Cap and Falcon were my favorites as a kid. Happy to introduce him to the next generation of kids. I've still got a few of my comics from when I was a kid at my in my basement if he ever wants to read them sometime."

"I'm sure he'd love that." JJ said gratefully. "If it's not too much trouble for you?"

"No trouble at all." Cruz waves off. "Just name the time and day you want to drop by my place, and I'll make sure to be home so he can pick them up. There may or may not be a shield waiting for him."

Cruz playfully winks at JJ before he turns around and makes his exit while the media liaison shook her head at their boss' retreating form. Thinking about how Cruz was at heart, a big kid trapped in a fifty-two year old man's body.

JJ turns around facing Morgan and Garcia, who are looking at her quizzically. Well, Morgan was looking at her quizzically. Meanwhile, the blond technical analyst stared at her with a raised eyebrow and a cat-at-the-canary smirk. She shakes her head at the two most intrusive profilers on the team and crosses her arms.

"Whatever you're thinking, don't." JJ said pointedly. "Nothing like that is going on with Cruz and I."

"Sure it isn't, Jayje." Garcia said amused. "Whatever you say."

"Why do you know where lives then?" Morgan interrogates playfully with a smile.

"Personnel file." JJ explains defensively. "He needed a file immediately that couldn't wait a few months ago, so I dropped it off at his place after I picked Henry up from daycare."

"I'm sure that's the same excuse Rossi had for Strauss." Garcia said wickedly.

Morgan and JJ stare at Garcia mortified. "Okay first of all, I did not need that image in my head."

"Second that baby girl." Morgan says looking away from her.

"And second of all, the guy's practically the same age that my father would have been." JJ counters. "He's a couple of years younger than Hotch, would you really be in a relationship with a guy and that kind of age difference."

"Don't knock it till you try it." Garcia mutters to herself while looking off to the side, hoping the other two agents hadn't heard her. She looks over to see JJ looking at her with a raised eyebrow and a look that said they'll talk about it during their girl's night Saturday.

"Besides, did I ask you why you were checking up on Hotch's place last Saturday?" JJ asks, smirking as the blue eyes of the other woman widen in horror.

"Why were you over at Hotch's?" Morgan asks curiously. "Jack is staying over at Haley's sister's place while he's in Afghanistan."

The technical analyst sputters and stutters, having a hard time coming up with an excuse on what to tell Morgan and JJ sees that as the perfect opportunity to go to her office and leave the two agents here.

"Yeah I thought so." JJ said satisfied. "Morgan, I give me twenty minutes and we can head over to McFadden's place."

JJ walks out of the room, assuming that Morgan heard her. On her way out, she leaves the conference room door crack and makes her way to her office.

Before she reaches her office, she walks by Cruz's office. She looks into his window and sees him hunched over in his seat and on the phone. It didn't look like a business call, since he appears to be using his cell phone. Judging by his scrunched eyebrows and hard glare, which was a stark contrast to the man who was in the conference room, that appointment he had looked more personal. And it wasn't going well.

"When you get this, I really need you to call me." Cruz said urgently, running his hands through his peppered hair. "You know what, don't call me. Just meet me at my place at seven tonight. We have some things that we need to discuss and we can do that over glass of whiskey or whatever the hell you want. Just be there and on time."

He presses down on the end button roughly and slams his phone on the desk. He puts his hands on the back of his head and sighs deeply.

The media liaison makes a quick and hasty exit before the section chief sees that she was spying on him. She walks in the direction of her office, with her boss' suspicious behavior entertaining her mind on the way.

If she were being honest with herself, something had been off with the section chief as soon as he saw those brandings. She noticed how his eyes lingered on the photos for longer than necessary and initially she thought that he was just trying to get a feel for the case they were working. But after that conversation, maybe there was something more to it than that.

_Or maybe I've been doing this job for far too long and just looking to find things that aren't there. Maybe the call was just a personal call. A disgruntled girlfriend or date._JJ says to herself.

As the media liaison opened her office door, she reminds herself to ask Cruz about his strange behavior later. But right now, she had to focus on her upcoming interrogation of Michael McFadden's friends and employees.

* * *

**AN: Originally, this was supposed be one whole chapter. But because of the amount of back story involved in the second part, I decided to break the chapter up into two, because of the surprise guest that appears in it. It shouldn't take too long to post the second part of this chapter, since it's practically done anyway. It will probably be posted it in a couple of days.**

**Happy reading and hope you enjoyed the update!**


	5. Ghosts

**7:05 pm**

**Cruz residence**

The black 2012 BMW pulls into the garage of the dormant five bedroom and three bedroom home in the middle of suburbia, just as the sun was setting for the day. The neighborhood kids were all in for the night, which was expected since it was a school night. The overworked night owls of the neighborhood aren't due back for another hour or so. This time of night was the best time of night for the section chief, especially after a long day at the office like today.

The noise hadn't really bothered the new section chief as much as it would anyone else. After the extensive traveling he's done since his earlier days in the army, he was just thankful that he did not have to go to sleep to the sounds of machine gunfire, explosions or trumpets waking him up long before the sun. Luckily for him, the only time there was ever really any noise this neighborhood made was during the annual fourth of July block party.

He turns off the engine of the expensive car and reaches into the back seat for his briefcase. Once he has it, Matt steps out of the car and closes the car door. The section chief takes a moment to look around the neighborhood to see if he would find a familiar muscle car within the vicinity and so far, he couldn't see it. It was either a very smart security measure by the driver of the vehicle. Or his charge had stood him up and hadn't planned on showing. He shrugs his shoulders and walks over to the front door, hoping that his former hypotheses was true.

The peppered haired section chief walks up to his front door and takes out his ringed house keys and sticks one of them in the lock. He unlocks the door and steps inside the black and white tiled entryway. Before he closes the door, Matt checks over his shoulder one more time, looking at the neighborhood sprawl for his guest. Seeing no indication of their presence, he closes the door softly, triple locking the door afterwards.

The section chief then walks through the entrance of the large, minimalistic looking living room. He sets his briefcase on the back of the black pull out couch and takes a moment to slip off his shoes. When he's out of them, the section chief places the black Oxfords and line them neatly against the couch next to the briefcase. He then reaches over and opens up the briefcase, pulling out a plain brown folder with the State Department's seal that refused to close. He closes the briefcase once again and stands up. Even though it had been years since the last time he was in uniform, his nightly routine from the Army was one habit he wasn't able to break. He never left a thing out of its place and his bachelor home was cleaner than most guys he knew.

Once he completed his task, Matt makes his way towards the kitchen bar. He slings his grey coat over one of the tall bar chairs and walks over to his makeshift office that covered the back wall across from the bar completely. His lacquered brown, oakwood desk also served as his bookcase where he kept the compass his father gave him on one shelf and various other trinkets from his many travels over the years.

The section chief sets the brown folder on top of the desk and then kneels on the floor and opens up the desk cabinet's door. Inside, there lay a grey and black digitized safe that filled up the entire cabinet. He punches in a six digit code, causing the door to click open. He reaches for the safe's handle and opens the door. Exhausted tanned hands pull out the safe's contents without any regard to order, watching as the metallic revolver, a couple of thousand dollars in cash, a few of his army commendations and the light brown case where his medals were safely secured inside blue velvet, tumbled out of the safe. There was one item left inside of the safe that caught his attention and served as the sole reason for his perusing the box in the first place, the nine by twelve orange envelope that was stuffed to the brim, marked with the name in black sharpie, 'Lauren Reinhardt.'

He pulls out the heavy envelope and closes the safe shut once again. The section chief then stands up with the folder and envelope in hand, walks over to the kitchen bar and tips the envelope open, spilling the contents of the envelope on the counter. Several different ids were wrapped in a rubber band belonging to the same brunette women, with ages ranging from early thirties to early forties and the first names beginning with an 'L' or an 'R'. Some of the names even began with an 'R' for the first name and 'L' for the last. He initially advised her to change the acronyms for the name, but she insisted that it would be easier for her to remember it the way that she had it before.

The peppered hair man also pulls out the subject's light blue file, with her name scrawled on the tab. He flips open the folder to the list written in his charge's scrawl and entitled 'Ian's contacts', choosing to bypass the gory photos of Lauren's accomplishments. After McFadden and outside of their primary target, Ian Doyle, there were three names on the list that were not crossed out:

Chloe Donaghy

Richard Greace

Lachlan McDermott

Brown eyes settled on the three names left on the list. Before this afternoon, he wanted to celebrate the fact that their mission would be over soon with a glass of obligation to the State Department would be over and he could focus one hundred percent on the BAU. He became excited about his upcoming plans for the team, that involved hiring another profiler and rotating leadership, having some of the senior most agents lead on cases and taking some of the burden off of Aaron. From his short time there, he had witnessed Aaron's dedication to his job and admired that about him. Matt figured that he deserved some sort of break from heading the cases all of the time and be able to spend more time with his growing son, Jack. The section chief also thought that it was time to see what some of his younger profilers could do in a leadership position. He had a couple of agents from his team that he could see having their own teams in the near future and this would give him the perfect opportunity to see if his intuition was right.

Those plans were unfortunately put on hold when he received a folder from his secretary from the State Department that included pictures and various documents proving that there was one more target on the loose. The most frustrating part about it is that this person was under their nose the entire time. That they could have gotten them right after they took out the other target. Then again, it would have been too risky since the teenage daughter was in the house. The girl could have heard her mother's screams and tried to intervene. Lauren would have been forced to kill her then and that is something his charge said she would never do, no matter the circumstance. The agent had already cross a dozen lines that she swore she would never cross and would have a hard compartmentalizing later But killing a child is just a depth that she adamantly refused to sink into. If that meant getting caught, then so be it.

He then picks up the id bundle and pulls out the one from Washington DC at the top. Lauren Reinhardt was the identity that she was using now and as soon as her assignment in DC was over, he would dispose of the folder and envelope with 'Lauren Reinhardt's' name on it and replace it with a new alias. The section chief's brown eyes were focused on the scar that marred the brunette woman's face.

He remembers the photo being taken a couple of weeks after the attack,when Lauren was in much better shape. The men that Flanagan had hired had gotten Reinhardt really good and his lie had nearly become the truth. He also remembers asking if she wanted to continue on with this, that he could have her reassigned in a heartbeat if she asked him to. But Lauren, being as stubborn as she is, insisted that she was fine. Being as stubborn as she is, wanted to continue on with the assignment and see it through to the end. She said that it was her best and only chance to get home and she wouldn't be able to do that until Ian Doyle was dead. Seeing that there was no changing her mind, he shrugged it off and gave her the assignment that would take her to New Orleans. Another perk, that was not expressed by the two agents of the State Department, was that it would give Lauren the opportunity to give it as good as she got it from Flanagan's goons. According to the photos that were in Morgan's file, she definitely paid Flanagan back in full.

Sighing, Cruz places the id down on the granite counter. The sarcastic barb here and there about his charge's activities was his way of coping with the guilt of having to order Lauren to go off and kill Doyle's contacts, for the sake of national security, or so he was told during his briefing into the case. If he were being honest with himself, he had not wanted this case in the first place and in the beginning, had done everything in his power to get out of a case he was not supposed to be involved with.

_It all started a few days before Emily Prentiss, BAU profiler and daughter of Ambassadors Richard and Elizabeth Prentiss, was officially killed off by the Bureau. JJ had come into his office, after getting off the phone with Agent Hotchner, shaking. Underneath her composed facade, he could tell that there was something troubling the blond. She shocked him by asking for a few days leave in order to help her team with the Ian Doyle case. He had asked her why she needed to be involved in this and she told him every detail of Emily's late night visit to her the night before and how the former agent gave her the orange envelope. He didn't need their newest liaison to tell him what was in the folder because he had seen the same thing several times over with other undercover operatives over the years. He also didn't need her to explain why she had those files in the first place. The agent knew that Prentiss' cover had been compromised and that she was on the run._

_He stopped the conversation and made a call to some guys that he knew in Interpol that were in charge of the joint task forces for the agency, asking for information on the JTF-12 and operation Valhalla. His friend was skeptical at the time, since those missions were classified, but when he explained Ian's escape and how an FBI agent's life was in danger, Bart cooperated and faxed the files for the case to his assistant, Jill. Once JJ had the files, he told her that if Henry and Will needed the extra security, just in case something went wrong on the case, that she should not hesitate to ask him about it. He told her good luck, confident that the information he provided to JJ's team, along with Prentiss' files, would help catch Doyle and put him back in a jail cell worse than the one he had in North Korea._

_Unfortunately for Cruz, he had been proven wrong and three weeks later, he found himself heading to the hospital room of an antsy and ornery Prentiss to debrief her on what was going to happen next. He had to skip out on her funeral early, but not without giving JJ a reassuring look to ease her unspoken doubts. She was doing the right thing by lying to her team, with the exception of Agent Hotchner and in the long run, keeping them and her safe. When they discovered the truth when Emily eventually reappears, if she decides to go back to her old life, that they would understand that this was done for their safety. _

_During the debriefing, a bruised and defiant, Prentiss listened intently as himself, a couple of nameless State Department suits, Agent Hotchner and JJ surrounded her. They break the news of Doyle getting away and how there was a possibility that he could pick up where he left off if they did not get her out of the country immediately. She was told that she would be placed in an apartment in Paris, with everything that she would need to be comfortable until they found Doyle. They had also gotten her a desk job at an Interpol agency there as well, to keep her busy. If she wanted to relocate to a new location, all she would have to do is contact him or JJ and they would do their best to move her._

_At the end of the briefing, the banged agent looked away from everyone and down at her feet in resignation of her current fate. Later on, JJ would tell him that as disappointed as she was in her current situation, Emily ultimately understood that this was for the best. At the same time, she wished that there was something that she could do to help catch the monster that haunted her and the rest of her team. At the time, Cruz remembers telling her that the best thing she could do to help them with Doyle, was to keep her eyes open and stay safe. Judging by the way her shoulders tense and the grip that her hands had on her arms tightened, what he said hadn't exactly comforted the former agent. He left her room soon after, hoping that with time, Agent Prentiss would accept it and head his advice. That she wouldn't go off and try to capture the dangerous arms dealer herself, like she had before._

_He didn't know at the time, his bosses and Prentiss were on the same page for another two weeks, just as they were getting things ready for Emily._

_Five weeks later, JJ came into his office with the papers he needed to sign for the next mission in Pakistan. She was assigned to be Prentiss' handler and gave her all of the necessary documents that she would need in Paris a couple of weeks earlier. The media liaison tells him that she was adjusting well to her new life but complained about being at a desk all day. He smiles seeing the look of relief on the communications liaison's face, even though she tells him that Emily was getting restless. He had a feeling that the two agents were close during their tenures at the BAU. Knowing that she was safe had apparently seem to make JJ lighter. She would need that levity for their upcoming assignment in Pakistan._

_Their conversation is cut short when his bosses order him to attend an emergency briefing. They tell him that through one of their confidential informants, they've found out that Doyle has made contact with some of his old buyers and connections from his arms dealing days. With plans to retaliate against the FBI, specifically the BAU. The arms dealer claimed that the FBI's attack against his most loyal men and Bostonian IRA henchman, was an act of war. He also believed that they knew where his son was and if they didn't, they knew who and where Emily stowed him away to. He swore to take out each and every BAU member, starting with Agent Hotchner's current team, until he had Declan in his possession. He was then told that they would have to deploy a special operations team to apprehend him any and all contacts that Doyle may have had in the states and abroad in order to get to figured that he wouldn't risk being noticed by the TSA, so he would lie in wait in the US until the opportunity to leave arrived. It would be a very costly mission for an already cash strapped department. They would have to cut the stipend they were giving Prentiss and dozens of other agents within the protection program in order to fund this man hunt._

_They also suggest another alternative solution, one that was more preferable for them, that involved turning this into a covert mission with one agent and an experienced handler. They wanted Prentiss to find Doyle and the rest of his inner circle and kill them. She was to make it appear to be Doyle's work so that when she finally apprehended the arms dealer, she would have an excuse not to bring him back alive. _

_The fact that they were considering that as an option for the already traumatized agent, sent a chill running down his spine and made him sick to his stomach. It wasn't uncommon for the government to have covert operations that involved assassinations. They did consider Doyle an international terrorist, so he didn't have a problem with them planning to assassinate him. His problem was essentially sending a victim, even though Prentiss might disagree with the term, to kill her perpetrator. He tried to argue on her behalf and tell his bosses how insane that idea was and how they should find another agent or recruit one from the CIA to do this mission instead of Prentiss, but the board wouldn't judge. They also told him that she started a war with Doyle eight years ago, so she should be the one to finish that war and Cruz would be the one to guide her through it._

_As he left the boardroom, they ordered him to tell Agent Prentiss about this opportunity, in case she was interested while he was checking on her in Paris. _

_A month after his meeting, right before he and JJ were due in Pakistan, Cruz finds himself in Emily's apartment in Paris. It was a cozy little one bedroom apartment located a couple of blocks near the Rhine. After three knocks and a ring of the buzzer, the former agent reluctantly let him in after he identified himself as an agent with the State Department. He flashed his badge into the peephole for good measure . _

_Cruz noticed that her usually long hair was now cut short. Her dark locks were now dyed a shade lighter and she also had red streaks in every other strand. Once she led him to the red sofa, he asked her about how she was adjusting to her new life. She replied by saying that her life in Paris was quiet and she had gotten a lot of reading done and joked that she could now cook a meal that would rival the ones in her collection of take out menus back in DC. It was something that she had craved in the last couple of years, to be able to relax without the nightmares of the last case flashing through her mind. At the same time, the former agent felt useless knowing that Ian Doyle was out there and she was just sitting here, waiting for him to find her. Hesitating for a few moments, he tells her that he might have a solution to her restlessness and tells her about the State Department's offer._

_If she took care of Doyle's contacts, she would not only be immune to prosecution in the United States, the former agent would get home sooner than she would by just waiting for him to make a move. He warned her of the possible psychological drawbacks to the assignment he was about to give her and cautioned that if she were purposefully caught in another country, how hard it would be to exonerate her without causing an international scandal. _

_Unfortunately for him, none of that seemed to deter Agent Prentiss and the fire in her brown eyes at his proposition only solidified the three seconds for her to agree to do it. She said that Doyle had taken everything away from her. He hunted and killed her old team for doing their jobs. If she hadn't given him what he wanted, Prentiss was sure he would have hunted the BAU as well. He took away her life and everything that mattered to her. As far as she was concerned, she had absolutely nothing else to lose by hunting him the way he had hunted her. The way Prentiss saw it, it was time that Ian felt the terror that all of his other victims felt, by taking away the last bit of power he thought he doesn't bother asking if she was sure after that speech because her defiant demeanor spoke volumes about how confident the brunette was in her decision. Cruz reaches into his pocket for his work phone to call his assistant Julie, asking for the names of Doyle's possible confidants and suppliers that the State Department had managed to come up with. He put the phone on speaker and Emily, with pen and paper in hand, wrote down the list. They would spend the next five hours gaining intel on each name on the list and coming up with a preliminary profile for each and everyone of them. When they were done, they discussed the method they would use for these assassinations. _

_As he left the cozy little abode, he told her not to say anything to JJ about her mission. The brunette looked at him for a second, as if she were going to contest. But her reason won out over her loyalty to the blond liaison, as she seemed to realize that keeping JJ in the dark about her new assignment was for her and Henry's sake than her own. He leaves her with directions to the cafe by the first target's house, where he will debrief her and hand her the materials that she would need for the job, before heading out into the lively Parisian night._

_Two days later, he's outside a cafe with Prentiss, who was dressed in black from head to toe and wearing matching leather gloves, two blocks away from Charlotte Pierre's apartment. While drinking a glass of wine to go with Emily's earl grey, he debriefs the former FBI agent on her target. _

_Pierre was a former girlfriend of Doyle's and one of the few times he strayed away from his usual type of woman, brunettes. Pierre, a blond, also had a father who was rumored to have dealt weapons with Doyle and traded them to enemy troops during the Gulf War. Pierre apparently inherited her father's business upon his death, which paid for her career as an artist. Doyle contacted her the day after Emily, wanting to reconnect with her. She offered the family Chateau in the South of France where they would talk about business and other personal matters regarding their relationship or lack there of. The blond had also told him of her newly acquired contact, that ran a sort of Silk Road of chemical weaponry out of Morocco and how she could hand Doyle's name over to him. The Department believed that Doyle planned to use this contact in order to get back into the weapons dealing game. _

_He told her what time Emily should expect her to come back to her apartment and what time she usually turned in for the night. The brunette agent would be at the twenty-four hour cafe until at least one am. She was to infiltrate her apartment and finish her off as quietly as possible. The artist had a couple of nosy neighbors, so he advised the brunette to use the silencer with the glock hidden in her leather purse. He also asks Emily about the men Doyle would kill and how he left his mark on them. Brown eyes widen in surprise at this information and he sees her hands hover over the scar he left on her. She tells him how she assumed he left his mark on her because he learned it from the prison in North Korea, like he had told her. She apparently didn't know that Doyle had been doing this to people long before that. This new information seemed to do the trick and incite the former agent even more. He told her that they would take a picture of her scar when she was done with Pierre to put in her file, as an extra counter measure. _

_As he was leaving, Cruz tells Emily that he will wait for her back at her place. He also suggests that she should not leave any trace evidence behind her and warned her of the publicity that the artist's death would bring. That she can't afford to be sloppy and leave something behind. There were also cleaning solutions within the bag that should not be on the radar of any crime scene unit team if she needs it. He leaves her with a good luck and a burner, in case she needs to contact him for back up. He causally walks away from the brunette without giving her a second glance, in case they were being watched._

_Cruz gets back to her place and drifts off into a restless sleep on her couch. The sounds of footsteps rushing through the door awakened him from his slumber five hours later. He pulls the revolver that he had strapped to his leg out and makes his way toward's the tiny bathroom. He remembers setting the gun down on top of the small table by the bathroom door and slowly walks in to find Prentiss hunched over the toilet, dry heaving and in tears. She claimed to be okay, in spite of her behavior saying otherwise. When he asked her about the kill, she refused to go into detail about Charlotte's death, but she said that it was done. He spent the night with her on the couch with the television on, appearing numb to everything around her. Emily didn't succumb to sleep until dawn, right before he was about to take his leave. He rubbed her back and placed a blanket over her sleeping form, whispering reassuringly that it would get easier as they went along. Even if he wasn't quite sure of that fact himself._

_The next morning, as he walked by the art's district, where Pierre lived, on his way back to his hotel. A chaotic scene awaited him. There were a couple of French paparazzi, several nosy reporters hounding the local police, distraught fans and a number of police officers surrounding the scene of her apartment. The crowd seemed to get rowdier as the medics load Charlotte's black body bag into the back of their van. He looked at it for a couple of minutes, knowing that their CSU team would not find a trace of anything, before he was shoed away by one of the detectives there who was trying to control the crowd. He walked away with his head down, thankful that the other names on the list would not be pseudo-celebrities._

_Three days go by and Cruz found his time in Paris with Emily soon came to an end. She invited him over to her apartment for dinner, after the dust settled on Charlotte Pierre's death. The first hour he was there, Matt reviewed her next case with her. Noticing how uncomfortable she was getting with the conversation, he moved on and started talking about his personal life and career with her. He also spent some time learning a little bit more about his charge. She was a Vonnegut fan and has read and could recite most of Ovid's poetry and prose in Latin. They talked about her parents, their travels and how she never really had a normal childhood. He learned that her biological father, a prominent conservative judge in Connecticut, walked out on Elizabeth when she told him that she was pregnant. To this day, he still refuses to acknowledge her as his daughter. Robert Prentiss had been a really good friend of her mother's, who had feelings for her, but lost hope when she started a relationship with the older judge. He took care of her during her pregnancy with Emily and a couple of months after she was born, they were married. Even though her parents were mostly focused on their careers, they loved her in their own way. _

_Cruz saw the far away look in her eyes and took that opportunity to tell Emily that when he saw her parents at the funeral, they looked to be inconsolable through their stone faced facade. Her father couldn't take his eyes off of her casket while her mother refused to look at it and kept her expressionless eyes on the headstone that bared her name. He saw Emily sadly look down at her hands, but she manage to recover quickly brushed it off with a joke about that moment being the closest they had ever been and she wasn't really there to enjoy it._

_Two hours after dinner, he and Prentiss ended up on the topic of JJ. He spends ten minutes raving about the work she was doing and how the department had improved immensely thanks to her, in spite of the circumstances that she was brought in under. He then admitted to seeing JJ going far as a liaison. He wouldn't be surprised to see her as the press secretary for the White House one day, if she used her contacts with the State Department correctly. Emily leaned back into the couch and sighed softly, telling him that JJ was definitely a lifesaver. Without her in the BAU, there were a few cases that the former FBI agent was pretty sure they wouldn't have been able to solve without the blond's knack for wordplay. After that, she started playing with her slightly regrown finger nails, causing a lull in the conversation. _

_During that lull, the State Department agent took the opportunity to ask the brunette the question that had been on his mind since JJ came in with the details of Emily's assignment with Doyle. He set his wine down on the glass table and asked the banged woman why she gave JJ the information about her undercover work. Out of all the people the ambassadors' daughter had in her life, why the blond liaison? Emily briefly glanced at him, brown eyes widening at the question before she downs the little wine left in her glass. Seeing that he was moving in on shaky ground. He then explains how in his experience, the agents that were previously undercover and had their covers blown would leave their files for their significant other or spouse to find, in case they don't come back for one reason or another. When he receives a half hearted nod in reply, Cruz then finds himself asking if she and JJ were having an affair. The brunette agent adamantly denies the charge and he is able to put the pieces together for himself._

_He remembers asking empathetically, knowing what it was like to love someone who was out of their reach, how long she has had feelings for the BAU's former liaison. She quietly confides to him since the day she walked into Agent Hotchner's office, asking where she should put her things. She explains to him all the near misses to tell the blond how she truly felt and how she thought there was something between them in the beginning. But then Will happened and the next thing she knew, the blond was pregnant and engaged to the New Orleans detective. She figured that as long as JJ was happy, then that was all that had mattered to her. After all the cases that the media liaison was subjected to daily as a part of her job, the blond deserved to have whatever little happiness life outside of the job could provide. And the banged brunette refused to get in the way of that, no matter how much it hurt her to do so._

_Seeing the looking in the former agent's eyes, made him want to tell her what the blond had confided to him the week prior to his visit to Paris out of frustration. That the blond was putting on a show of happiness in her relationship with Will, just as Emily had concealed her feelings for the blond. She also told him that the most enjoyable part of her day, besides coming home to Henry, were their bi-weekly scrabble games._

_Underneath his tough yet disciplined exterior, Cruz was secretly a hopeless romantic. He wanted to see where this possible thing between JJ and Emily would go. But he also knew that even if JJ's not in love Will anymore, it didn't mean that the blond would have feelings for Emily or any other woman. He didn't want to get her hopes up, not with the mission the brunette had ahead of her. He needed Emily's mind to be focused on the job at hand and JJ's rejection could be the very thing that kills Prentiss. He couldn't take the risk of that happening, so he decides not to tell the brunette what the liaison had confided to him._

_They sit in silence for a couple of moments, before Cruz stands up to leave, telling the brunette that he had to be back in DC for a briefing before heading to Pakistan. He says that he has one more thing to give her and then pulls a picture of Henry out of his wallet, handing it over to Prentiss. She took the photo from him and held it into her hands delicately. It was a recent picture of Henry, with smile where you could see all of his tiny white teeth as he clung his small hands to the swings and blond tresses flung into his face. He looked like he was being swung as high as the little swing set with go, with Morgan in the background grinning at the camera right behind him. Garcia, the BAU's technical analyst was on the swing next to Henry's trying to push herself as high as Henry. He told her that it was taken by JJ during an outing that the dark agent and technical analyst planned for them with the two year old. He then tells her that the little boy would stay with Garcia until she got back from her mission. _

_Cruz waits for Prentiss to look up but she doesn't. Instead she strokes images of the three people within the photo with her finger longingly. He then goes on to tell her that JJ wanted her to have it as a reminder of what she has to come home to when she was ready. He then tells her that when this mission is over, that he couldn't guarantee that she wouldn't come back to DC with a few additional scars to add to her growing collection. Or that everyone on her team who didn't know about being alive would forgive her for what she has done or what she was about to do. But he could guarantee that a sweet little boy and his mother would be waiting to greet her with open arms and loving compassion as soon as she walked through the door. He then tells her that JJ did not tell Henry that she was dead, but that she was off somewhere on a secret spy mission. The little boy swore to secrecy on his beloved legos that he would not tell anyone about Emily being a secret spy. _

_The agent swears he saw a lone tear come out of one of Prentiss' eyes, as she set the photo down on the coffee table and stood up. She walks over to the door where he was and wraps her arms around him in a tight hug. He pats her back gently and tells her if she won't stop Doyle for herself, then at least stop him for JJ, Henry and the rest of her former teammates. As Prentiss shuts the door behind him, he quietly tells her good luck and how she was going to need it._

_A couple of weeks after his visit with Prentiss and on an Air force one plane to Pakistan, Cruz receives a text from an unknown number, telling him that Dawson was dead. JJ, who is sitting across from him, asks what the text was about. His reply is nothing, just his secretary was telling him about a package that came to his office and he was telling her where to put it. The liaison seemed to accept that answer and turns her head back to the window. _

_During the first three weeks of his mission in Pakistan, he would come back to his barracks at the end of the long work day with identical text messages from the unknown user five more times: Tierny. Morrison. Coulson. McGee. Hudson. He even received a brief call from his charge the day before they were about to kill Pearson in Edinburgh, to update him about her intentions to move on to the states once the last two victims in Europe were taken care of. She had gotten over the nature of what she was doing and managed to compartmentalize this part of her life, so that when she goes back to her old life, the brunette would not have to carry everything that she was doing back there. It was part the reason why she requested that he stopped calling her 'Emily' or 'Prentiss'. She wanted him to call her by whatever alias she was using at the time instead. It was also why her biweekly Scrabble games with JJ came to a sudden and abrupt end. He wanted to ask her more about her sudden change in behavior but before he could, his charge spotted her target._

_She ended their conversation with a promise to call him once Pearson was gone and he told her that they were only doing a brief surveillance of the area in the morning with Hastings and JJ. But afterwards, he would be free to talk to the rest of the day. He promised to call her just in case things ran longer than expected._

_Unfortunately, he never got the chance to make that call. The next day while they were in their convoy, they were ambushed by the enemy and their convoy was blown up. One of their agents, Michael Hastings, was killed in action and their interpreter was the one who set everything up and tried to kill him. He managed to get himself and an unconscious JJ out of there before things got worse. It was one of the last things he remembered before succumbing to unconsciousness himself._

_During he and JJ's month long stay in the hospital, he received two texts. One telling him that Pearson was gone and another to tell him that she was going dark and that he would not hear from her for a while. The murders of Pierre, Dawson, Tierny and now Pearson were all over the international news. Even though they were no closer to catching her than they had been with the initial murder of Pierre, her charge still didn't want to take any more chances. _

_He sent her a message to tell her that it was alright and to stay safe, before closing his phone and setting it on the night stand, praying that Prentiss or whoever she was now, would be okay on her own for a while._

_Six months later, as he was grabbing a quick midnight snack, Cruz was startled by a figure dressed in black and a mask, drinking a tumbler full of his scotch. The figure in black pulled off their mask and Prentiss revealed herself. Her hair was a bit longer than the last time he had seen it and when he turned on the light, he noticed that it was a shade darker and the red streaks were gone. She offered him a drink, which he gratefully accepted, and asked him why it took him so long to text her back after Pearson. He reluctantly tells her about the ambush and how JJ had taken the brunt of the explosion. It took him twenty minutes to convince his infuriated and vengeful charge that JJ was fine after a few weeks of rehab as soon as they were relieved, and a reassurance that he would catch Askari eventually. He told her that all she needed to do was stay focused and focused on Doyle._

_Cruz would spend the next three hours debriefing her about her targets in the DC area and how she should kill a couple of them at a time before moving on to the next city. He also updated her on Henry and handed her a current picture of the little boy. This time, it was of the three year old in a birthday hat on his mother's lap, as he blew the candles out on his cake._

_Before disappearing into the night, Prentiss told him that he should consider changing his locks and getting an alarm. He tells her in jest that he would think about it, even though he was sure she'll find another way in no matter what security measures he decided to take._

The gray haired section chief turns away from the counter top and towards his liquor cabinet. He pulls out the near empty container with amber liquid and sets it on the counter top. As he's unscrewing the top, he feels someone staring at him from the dining room table. He looks up and sees the dark figure, with one leg crossed over the other with their back against the wall. She was wearing the ghastly black mask again, the one that made her look like a giant fly.

"You know, you don't have to do this every time you visit." Cruz said casually as he goes back to unscrewing the top. "You can pretend to be normal for two point five seconds and say hello. Or ring the doorbell."

"I know that." Emily replies, but the section chief can hear the smirk in her distorted voice. "But I haven't been normal in what, three years? Besides, where's the fun in being 'normal'?"

"I could accidentally shoot you one of these days." he said as he pops the cubed shape top off the bottle.

"Good luck with that." she said sarcastically. " You and I both know you'd be dead before the bullet left the chamber."

The section chief shrugs his shoulders, coinciding to his asset being right. Three years ago, he may have questioned her statement. But after all he has seen in regards to her work the last couple of years, the brunette may be right.

"Humor me anyway and take that damn thing off." Cruz instructs. "I don't want to feel like I'm talking to some freaky, early seventies scifi alien."

Cruz pours the amber liquid into his tumblr and sets the container down. The section chief doesn't bother offering her any of the liquid, knowing that she prefers to abstain from alcohol while on the job.

He then walks away from the counter and moves over to the seat across the agent at the small, black table and takes a seat.

Emily, or Lauren as she's going by now, scoots forward into the chair facing his direction. She reaches behind her mask, loosens the straps and pulls the mask forward away from her face. Once it's off, she sets the monstrosity down onto the floor.

Cruz looks up from his drink and he immediately notices the physical changes in the brunette since the last time they talked in New Orleans. Her skin was paler now, making the scar, that ran from her left eye, across the bridge of her nose and ended at the tip on the right side of her upper lip, was a deep purple in color. Brown eyes had dark circles surrounding them and seemed to be sunken in. She looked like she hadn't had a decent night's sleep in weeks.

He looks down at her hands and sees that her nails looked as if they had been chewed down to the bone of her finger. The section chief could smell the rank stench of cigarette smoke that covered her clothes, making his concern for his asset grow.

Cruz raises the tumbler to his lips and takes a sip of the amber liquid. He shakes his head a little, feeling it burn down his throat. When it's over, he looks at Agent Pren-Reinhardt, who sat there still and expressionless.

\

"I got a very interesting phone call from our bosses this afternoon." Cruz said as he leans his head on his hand and gets down to business.

He knew that if he confronted her about his concerns for her health now, she would shut down and walk out of here without knowing what her next assignment was going to be. The section chief has seen that the brunette seem to be reaching her breaking point with this assignment. At this point, he couldn't be sure if she wouldn't walk out on him and never return if he pushed her about her health now.

"All good things I assume." Reinhardt's husky voice said sarcastically, as a cold smirk forms on her lips.

"Not exactly." Cruz said unamused. "They weren't exactly happy with the job you did on McFadden and the Cirque Du Soleil spectacle that you left behind. The New Orleans police are starting to connect his death with Flanagan's thanks to your stunt. It's already all over the news in New Orleans and according to their sources, it's expected to make the national news sometime tomorrow morning."

Lauren crosses one arm over the other and stares at her handler indifferently, causing the section chief to sigh. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his Iphone. The grey haired man pulls up the picture that he grabbed from Morgan's files and lies it in front of the silent asset.

"The BAU has also taken an interest in the McFadden/Flanagan case. This was taken from their briefing this afternoon."

Lauren picks up the phone and scrolls through the pictures. Her eyes widen slightly before going back to normal, but her expression remains neutral.

"Right now, they believe this is all Doyle's work." Cruz tells her. As soon as the three agents were out of the room and busy in their respective offices, Cruz went back into the conference room and looked at the white boards and monitor that Derek and JJ had tried to obscure from his view. "They've already connected the bodies in Boston, LA, DC and Europe to him. You and I both know that it's only a matter of time before they realize Doyle isn't their unsub and they start looking for you."

The brunette nods and slides the phone back over to him.

"So what do they want me to now?" she asks him, purposefully skipping over any mention of her former team.

The section chief lifts his head up and places his hands on top of one another, bracing himself for the next piece of news that the brunette would not be happy about.

"They want to stop hunting Doyle." Cruz said reluctantly.

Lauren's posture straightens up and narrows her eyes at the handler. Before she can say anything, the section chief holds his hand up and interrupts her before she had the chance.

"You can finish off the four remaining people on the list, but they want you to stay away from Doyle from this point on. It'll be Homeland Security's problem from now on."

"Why would they want me to do that?" Lauren asks coldly.

"They're concerned about your well being." Cruz said calmly. "They think you're losing control and being reckless in the process. They think that you're about to crack and they can't afford that. They want to abort the mission and place you back in protective custody program immediately."

"They're _concerned _about my well being, now?" Lauren chuckles bitterly. "Did they amend their budget this year that would allow them to give a damn about their undercover agents now? Or is it because they're disappointed that I'm still alive when they expected me to really be dead three years ago after Hudson?"

"It's not like that Emily and you-"

"Don't call me that name!" Lauren hisses, pointing a lone finger at the section chief. "And you can tell them where to shove their so called concern, I'm not letting up on Doyle. Especially not after what I've got on him."

There is a tension filled pause and Cruz uses that to chug another sip of his scotch. He ignores the sting this time and sets the glass back down when he's done.

"For the record, Reinhardt, that's exactly what I told them." Cruz said casually, smiling at the confusion flashing through her eyes. "I just put it a little nicer than you did just now."

Looking up at the still confused brunette he continues on with his explanation.

"I told them that in spite of her slip up with McFadden, that Agent Reinhardt has done fine work thus far and is perfectly capable of seeing out her assignment through to the end." Cruz tells her with a small smile. "I also reassured them that from her on out, you would play by their rules and there won't be any more slip ups. They told me that you better or else the Director of the FBI would be getting a call from him. The mission will continue on as planned."

Looking down at her hands in shame, Lauren nods and sets them back on the table when she is done.

"Now that we've got that out of the way, let's move on to something else." Cruz said. "You said that you had something on Doyle?"

Lauren inhales a deep breath in and exhales out soon after. "When I was staking out the cafe that Doyle goes to every morning, he wasn't alone. Richard Gerace sat at his table with him ten minutes after he arrived."

Cruz stares at the asset in surprise. "Are you positive it was him?"

Lauren nods. "Yeah. I met him once during the Valhalla operation. I would never forget that scar."

"What were they doing together anyway? I thought they hated each other?"

"Gerace may hate Doyle, but he doesn't hate his money." Lauren said sarcastically.

"He's paying him to do a job?"

"Not just any job." Lauren said somberly. " He's paying him to kidnap Declan. From what I heard of their conversation, it looks like Gerace has already found him."

Lauren would have told him about the other man that Gerace was speaking to after Doyle left and how that may be Gerace's partner, but the asset wanted a chance to gather more intel on Gerace's whereabouts first. Maybe when she caught the cowardly weapons dealer, she could convince him that it was in his best interest to give up his partner before she killed him.

The section chief does not say anything for a while, taking a moment to register this new information. Up until this point, the two of them knew that there was a possibility Doyle would try to and maybe even succeed in finding Declan. But they had not anticipate him finding the teenager this soon. And if he's getting help from who he considers an enemy who he mutilated twenty years ago, then Doyle must be desperate. Both agents knew that if he was that desperate, it was only a matter of time before he starts taking other people down with him.

Cruz picks up the glass and gulps down another swig of his drink.

"Do you think he know where Tom's house is?"

"I'm not sure." Lauren answers doubtfully. " But somehow, he managed to gain access to Declan's school by either staking out the perimeter from one of the neighborhoods near by. Which I highly doubt the staff at his school would allow that to happen. You would have a better chance of getting into Fort Knox than that school."

"Or somehow, managed to get some lower level position at the school that would have given him access to the students. Maybe as janitor, custodian or cafeteria worker. Whatever job he has on campus now would have allowed him enough time to scout Declan out and memorize his daily schedule." Lauren continues on, using her left pointer finger to pick at her right thumb to calm down some of her nervous energy. " I wouldn't be surprised if Gerace's inquired about him to any or all of his other teachers. It wouldn't be a shock if he hadn't already followed Declan home a couple of times."

The section chief sets the nearly empty glass down and sits up straighter in his chair.

"I'll talk to SSA Breyer at counter-terrorism and see if we can set up a time to talk to Kearns alone and fill him in on developments in the Doyle situation." Cruz said after a while. "I won't tell him where I got the information from, just that I got it from one of my confidential informants. But I will recommend that there be two FBI agents stationed at his house at all times until we neutralize Doyle and Gerace. I'll also see if I can have someone tail Declan at school from now on, just in case Gerace thinks about trying anything over there."

Lauren raises a thin eyebrow at her handler, having a hard time buying that Kearns would take the security detail without any objections.

"I'll make sure to emphasize the seriousness of the situation to Tom. I'm sure he'll understand that we need to be a step ahead of Doyle and Gerace for Declan, Louise and the agent's own sakes.

Lauren nods. "What do you want me to do about Gerace, sir?"

Cruz stands up from the chair and walks over to the granite island, where he left his files. He picks the files up and carries them back to his seat.

"Gerace is obviously the bigger threat

"Right now, I want you to focus on your next target in New Orleans."

"New Orleans?" Lauren ask quizzically. "But I just got back from there. The only person on Doyle's contact list there is Duncan Flanagan and he's been dead for a year."

"You're wrong about that Reinhardt." Cruz tells her as he sets the files down on the table. "Don't feel bad, I only found out this afternoon about how wrong we were."

He sprawls the files out in front of her and watches as the brunette crosses her arms over her chest. He then opens up the flap for the first file. Inside, there are black and white pictures of a blond woman in her fifties, dressed in a nice, pressed pinstriped pantsuit, holding hands with Duncan Flanagan. Brown eyes widen in surprise as she immediately recognizes the woman before her. Shelly Flanagan.

"How is that possible?" Lauren asks dumbfounded. She looks away from the photo and looks directly at Cruz. "We've spent weeks collecting intel on Duncan, not once did

"That's because we were only looking at Duncan. Shelly Flanagan wasn't even a blimp on our radar." Cruz said, leaning back into the chair, watching as Agent Reinhardt combined through the photos.

"She wasn't in the spotlight like her husband was, outside of the occasional promotional appearances for Flagcon events. She gave up her law career in order to be a stay at home mom for her two daughters.

He watches as she gets to the print out of a Dublin newspaper from seven months ago with the headline: 'Widower appointed to Flagcon board of directors'.

"Then what is she doing being appointed to the Board of Directors?" Lauren asks as she's places the article back inside of the folder.

"That's what I was curious about too." Cruz tells her. "So I send a couple of agents, in plain clothes, down to New Orleans and Baltimore to talk to some of the employees working at the docks. They told them that was practically running Flagcon by herself and Duncan was just a figure head for the company."

"So what, a woman is in charge of a very successful company and that makes her suspicious?" Lauren asked, annoyed with the section chief's implication.

"It does when you're paying Doyle off the books to keep McDermott in line while fraudulently using your husband's name." Cruz said, pointing to her financials, placing them in Lauren's face.

"He made the trip to Boston and had the account closed in 1998, but Duncan's 'assistant' opened it back up the next day using his signature. Around the time Duncan would have been on a flight to Ireland to visit his ailing father and older brother. Their source says that they believe, without a doubt, that Shelly Flanagan was the one paying him off."

The section chief then shows her the black and white surveillance pictures of a short haired brunette woman, who appeared to be wearing a wig, at the front counter of the bank talking to one of the tellers, carrying a briefcase. She flickers over to the next photo from the following year, except she's wearing a longer wig and carrying that same briefcase. There is surveillance for every year, up until the year of her 'death' in 2011. Flipping through each one of them seemed to infuriate Lauren more than the one before it. Until finally, she is able to set the manilla folder down with a hard thud.

"So you're telling me, Shelly Flanagan has been Doyle's contact all along." Lauren said with a bite in her husky voice. "And I might have killed an innocent man for nothing! Now you're asking me to kill this sixteen year old girl's mother based on yet another flimsy hunch!"

"I never said Duncan was innocent. And it's not a flimsy hunch." Cruz said defensively, feeling a little flustered by the situation. "I don't know why their people did not pick up on this while they were creating the list initially or why they didn't have all the information at the time. But they do now and both Flanagans were involved with Doyle to some capacity."

"I know exactly why. The State Department's people probably didn't think that a woman like Shelly wasn't capable of being anything other than a harmless soccer mom."

He looked away from her briefly and took a deep breath, before telling her this next piece of information, knowing that in all likelihood, Emily would get very upset.

"I wasn't going to tell you this before, but now's as good of a time as ever." Cruz mutters. "Do you know how Doyle manage to procure the private jet that he used to get here from Russia?"

"No."

"Flanagan was meeting with investors in Moscow at the time. According to Duncan's cell records, there was a call made to him from a burner phone out in one of the towns nearby. We're thinking that he met up with Flanagan in Moscow and caught a ride with him to Denmark."

"Where Sean and his wife were killed?" Lauren said quietly and Cruz nods to her in response.

"So no, he was not innocent, not in the least. Neither is his wife. They're both guilty of their own greed and that is what is killed Duncan. It is also going to kill , their kids are going to suffer the most in the end."

The pair sit in silence for a moment and then the asset nods her head begrudgingly in acceptance of her assignment.

"Is there anything else that I need to know?" Lauren asked restlessly.

"Yeah." Cruz said as he leans back in his chair. "Don't underestimate Shelly Flanagan. She may look like soccer mom of the year, but she is just as dangerous as her husband was, if not moreso. She could do some real damage to you if you're not careful. You'll need as much strength as you can get to kill your last three targets after her."

The soft lace of concern in his voice, touches Lauren greatly. The whole time she has been working for him, she's always been surprised at the amount of concern he has shown her. He could be railroading her ass on the phone one minute and pulling her into a comforting hug the next. She will never tell the BAU's section chief this willingly, but she sort of saw him as sort of a surrogate father figure, in place of her own. He was always looking out for her best interest, even if he had trouble showing it.

She stands up from the table and gathers the files that Cruz had just given her. The brunette then picks the mask from beneath her feet and places it back onto her face. She straps the velcro straps onto the bottom of her chin, scoots her chair in and starts to walk away from the table and towards the back door with a slump in her shoulders.

Cruz swigs the last of his drink and watches her leave. He got one last look of her before she would become a ghost once again. It was never easy to watch his asset, who has now become more of a friend to him, because he knows the possibility that this may be their last meeting. He knew with her skill set, that she would be fine and this thought seem to reassure him after every one of their briefings. But for some reason after this one, he wasn't comforted by that thought anymore. Emily had changed after her attack in Dublin eight months ago and even if she wouldn't say it out loud, he had a feeling that the brunette could go dark after Shelly Flanagan. If she decided to go dark, there was no getting her back and Cruz feared that things would get worse if that happened. More bodies would turn up, if Doyle succeeds and gets away with Doyle. He would have no choice but to reveal Emily and the State Department's secret to the BAU. That was something the section chief did not want to even consider as an option. So he decides that he has to make one last ditch effort to give the hopeless agent something to hold on to. Maybe hearing about Henry, JJ and the rest of her team would do something to lift her spirits.

"Prentiss!" Cruz calls out to her, causing the masked agent to turn around abruptly.

"They're all doing okay."

If he could see the chocolate brown eyes of the brunette agent, they would be looking at him as if he'd grown two additional heads.

"Your team." Cruz amends. "They're all doing okay. Blake, that new agent I told you about, seems to finally finding her rhythm with the rest of the team. Hotch is away on assignment again and won't be back for another month. Based on our conversation a couple of weeks ago, it seems like he has a new girlfriend. Morgan and Rossi are alternating while he's out, they are doing fine too. Reid has gotten better with his shot. He and Maeve are still surprisingly going strong. They'll be celebrating their one year anniversary together in a couple of weeks. And Garcia is just Garcia, but she seems to be dating someone as well."

The masked brunette takes her hand off the door and crosses her arms over herself in anticipation.

"Henry is growing up so fast. He loves Captain America and his pee wee soccer team has just made him their new center. If you're back in time, I'm sure you could find a way to make it to his first game next Saturday." Cruz continues on, seeing the asset's silence as a good sign. That he may be getting through to her somewhat. "And JJ, she's getting by. She's mainly focused on Henry and her dual role as liaison and profiler. But sometimes when she thinks no one is looking, I'll catch her staring at your old desk a little longer than the others."

Emily turns around opening the door in the process. She takes a step out of the door and the last thing that the masked agent hears is this.

"It'd be nice if that desk was filled soon, so she won't have to do that anymore."

* * *

**AN: So sorry that it took so long to post this. First session of summer classes just ended and I had a little time off from studying to finish this. Also, I apologize if this isn't as good of a chapter as the last. Feedback and criticism always appreciated and thanks again for reading and reviewing this story. **


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